Broken
by Angelia Reader
Summary: It's been five years, and war still rages. Voldemort is winning, and captures Harry. Darkfic. Rated M for a reason... Warnings at the begining of each chapter. HP/LV Looking for Beta
1. Prologue

_**Hello Everyone!**_

_**Angelia Reader here with a new Harry Potter fanfic! If you have read my other fanfic, The Aftermath, then think of this as an alternant universe where the light lost the key battle at Hogwarts. The stories are in no way related. I hope you like this one, and that it will do as well as the other. **_

_**I don't own Harry Potter!**_

_**Enjoy!**_

_**~Angelia Reader.**_

**Prologue**

Move.

Duck.

Aim.

Shoot.

_Don't stop. You're dead if you stop._

Eyes burn with hatred into his. The other rushes forward.

Fire.

Gone. He's gone now. Nothing but blood and meat.

Move.

Another comes.

Fire.

_Click._

Damn out of bullets.

Holster the gun. Grab the wand.

A flash of green.

He's gone now too.

An explosion to his left.

Don't look over there. It's not important.

Duck.

A flash of light goes by his head.

It missed.

_Damn it missed._

Fire.

Destroy.

Another comes now.

Young, so young.

A flash of light.

She's gone now.

Her parents will mourn.

They should have kept their daughter away.

This is war.

Pain. Pain in his shoulder.

Turn.

Grab knife.

This is war.

Strike.

This it war.

Move.

War.

Death around him.

Friends gone. Enemies gone.

It doesn't matter right now. All that matters is survival.

He's a machine. Just a machine.

He's death.

"He's here!"

_Fuck…_

They've just lost the battle.

Pain in his scar now.

Agony. He wishes for death.

Run

"Run!"

The sound of running around him. He turns and fights the crowd.

He has to get to Him.

There.

Power, so much power. Already a pile of dead around him.

He runs toward him. His wand is raised.

A flash of green light.

_Fuck I missed._

Their eyes meet and He laughs.

He's playing with them. He could kill them all if he wanted.

"Retreat!"

It's over.

Five years and it will never be over.

The familiar sensation of squeezing. He's gone for a second. And then he's there.

He looks at who made it. Not many.

To few.

"Fuck."

They were losing the war. So many are left on the battle field.

"Harry!"

He turns. His hand on his blade.

_Oh her._ He takes her in his arms.

"You made it. Ron?"

"Here Mate."

They both made it.

"He was there."

"I know."

"Your shoulder."

"Nothing. I'm fine. How many?"

"Thousands. It was a trap."

_Fuck._

To many dead.

They should have stayed home.

"_You're a hero Potter."_

That's what he had said.

No, no heroes here.

War had no place for Heroes.

They walk hand and hand. It's time to regroup.

To few here.

They reach the tent. It's already filling with the wounded and the dead.

Even as he watches more medics appear with bodies.

To many dead.

He feels weak. He's hurt worse than he thought.

_Fuck._

The world spins.

"Mione…"

He's falling.

He's gone.

_**Thank you for reading Everyone! I know it's a bit short, actually it's really short, but it's important. There will be actual exposition in the next chapter, but I had to show you the mindset Harry is in. I got this idea from another fanfic I read and wanted to try that style. I'm sorry if it seems like I took your idea Mistress Slytherin. Please forgive me if I have offended you. I hope you all enjoy this, because it's going to be a wild ride.**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_


	2. War is Hell

_**Hello Everyone!**_

_**I'm glad that this is taking off. So I'm going to continue. Because there isn't much to say yet, I'm just going to jump right in. This chapter is going to give a better look into the state of the world and is going to get into the plot. **_

_**I don't own Harry Potter!**_

_**Enjoy!**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_

**Chapter One: War is Hell**

**Harry's POV**

He came into consciousness slowly, becoming aware in degrees. He was lying on his back. The cot was lumpy under him.

_Where am I…? _The thought drifted through his hazy mind. He couldn't remember. The sickening sent of blood and potions filled his nose.

_Hospital Wing, but why…_ A hand lightly touched his shoulder, and he reacted before he could think. His fingers found the knife strapped to his wrist. He was up, grabbing the hand that touched him, and pressing the blade to their throat before he eyes were even open.

_Oh!_ The memories flooded his mind as he looked into the terrified eyes of the medic. He was in the medical tent. He had been stabbed. This was war. He released the trembling man, "Sorry."

"I told you. You shouldn't have touched him," Ron gripped his shoulder tightly. It was his way of giving comfort, "Have a nice nap Mate?"

"You couldn't have just let me die?" there was nothing in his voice.

"Because you're too valuable to lose," Ron responded. He was use to this. After every battle Harry had always questioned why he was not dead.

He sighed. He sat up, and brushed his long hair from his eyes, "How bad is it?" There were screams of agony coming from somewhere in the tent. Five years ago he would have flinched. Five years ago he would have cared.

"A thousand wounded and nearly as many dead. We were given wrong information."

He nodded, "He was there towards the end. He knew that I was there and he let me get away." He grabbed the shirt beside the cot, wincing as the movement pulled on the fresh scars on his back and shoulders.

"We have to tell Minerva," he said.

Again he nodded, and absently tried to braid his hair. It was past his waist now. Annoying in battle, but he had made a promise. He managed only to tangle it farther after a few minutes of trying. He was just about to give up when Ron's wife entered.

Hermione couldn't help but smile slightly at his frustration, "If you hate it that much then why don't you just cut it?" Her own hair was short, cut just below her chin.

"Ginny," was all he said. Hermione sat behind him on the cot, her chest brushing his back as she expertly braided his hair.

"She's been dead for three years Harry," she murmured as she finished.

"You don't understand, I can't cut it. I made a promise."

"You were grieving Harry. It's moronic to keep it this long," she snapped, lightly pulling on the braid.

Anyone else he would have killed for saying such a thing. Except for Ron. They were the only ones who could treat him like he was anything but a killer. He ignored her and stood. His body was stiff, his shoulders twitching slightly as the gashes continued to heal, "Fucking wolf," he hissed. "Guns," he held out his hand expectantly.

Ron shook his head, but handed over the twin handguns Harry had taken to carrying, "I don't understand why you carry muggle weapons."

"They give me an advantage. Not even a wizard is immune to a bullet," He looped one just under his left arm, and the other at the small of his back. He felt better having them with him, "Knives."

Ron shook his head and passed him three blades. One for both legs, and a longer one along his spine, "Wand." He slid his wand into his right pants pocket. He was armed and ready to go.

Hermione laced her fingers with Ron's. When she offered him her hand he merely shook his head. He needed to have both hands free. The trio made their way through the medical tent, all but oblivious to the cries of the dying. They were short staffed, but there wasn't much they could do. Harry stopped every so often to lend comfort where he could. It was the only thing he could do. He had been told that seeing he was hope to his fellow soldiers, so he gave it where he could.

The camp was alive with activity when the exited, to the left there were people setting up tents, while to the right fresh graves were being dug. They headed in that direction. The first one they came to a witch knelt at, her face buried in her hands and long mournful wails were erupting from her chest. In the grave was a wizard. Her husband probably.

Harry knelt beside her, gently pulling her hands from her face, "He was a good man," he told her. He slipped easily into her mind, finding his name, "Albert was a good soldier. I will make sure his sacrifice was not in vain." He couldn't tell her. He wanted to, but he couldn't tell her that the war was going badly. They were losing. It was only a matter of time.

He repeated this process several times as they made their way across the endless stretch of graves. At each one he was rewarded with looks of hope, and worse trust. Their absolute faith in him cut deeper than any knife could. When they finally reached the edge of the sea of graves, they were standing in front of a large red tent.

The two guarding the door stood at attention when they approached. He nodded to them as he passed. They were boys still. He could still smell the stench of youth on them. He pushed back the flap and stepped into the cavernous room. It was taken up almost completely by a complete map of the world. No one looked up at they entered, they simply watched. On it little figurines fought each other while others stood still, silent. As he watched, one of the black figures, a snake bested the white phoenix. It was the battle they had just lost. Harry walked to the head of the table and watched as two more, smaller figures began fighting. "We're losing," he said softly.

"I know Potter," Minerva said just as softly, her eyes never leaving the map.

"We lost several good men just now," he continued, taking his seat to her right.

"What happened?"

"Ambush," Ron explained, he sat on her other side with Hermione beside him, "They knew we were coming and waited for us. We were surrounded. If it hadn't been for Harry we would have lost everyone."

"He was there," Harry added softly, "He knew I was there too, and he let me go. He's planning something, I just know it."

"Are you having dreams again?" Neville asked. He lifted his eyes from the map to their "savior."

Harry shook his head, "Not in a few months. I just know. I can feel it. He knows he's winning and he wants me to know he knows."

"So what do you suggest we do? Go to him and beg for his mercy?" George jumped in.

"Is that really such a bad idea?" Lavender countered, "Harry said himself, we're losing. The quicker we give in the easier he'll be on us."

"The bastard is the reason most of my family is dead," George snarled, "I would die sooner than bend knee to him."

"We've all lost people," she hissed, "Not just you."

"Enough," Minerva snapped, "I will not have my counsel fighting amongst themselves. We will not be surrendering. Surely there is a way that we can come back from this?" She looked to Harry as she said it.

Harry was silent. He continued to study the map. The small phoenix had defeated the snake, but it was only a small victory. It meant almost nothing, "We're running around in circles," he murmured to himself. It had been evident that they were losing for the past two years. They may have won smaller battles, but those didn't matter when they lost thousands in the larger ones, "A change," he murmured, "Something needs to change." He sighed, "Here," he pointed to a spot where a large snake sat, "If we strike here then we could destroy one of their biggest camps. It would cripple them." He could already see the battle playing out. They would be outnumbered. They would be slaughtered if it wasn't well planned, "Or here," he shook his head, "No, that would never work." _It's hopeless._ "I don't see any maneuver that wouldn't end in significant loss of life." He admitted.

Minerva shook her head, "There has to be something."

"Ma'am?" one of the guards stepped into the room, "There is someone here that needs to speak to you. He says it's important."

"Who is it?" she demanded, "We're busy."

"He says his name is Severus Snape Ma'am. He says he has some information that my help you win the war."

"Impossible, Severus Snape is dead," she said coolly, "Potter?" she said softly.

Harry nodded in understanding. He pulled the blade that rested along his spine. Moving with the grace of a predator he sank into the shadows by the door, _"Cover me," _he whispered softly in Parseltongue. His body melted into the shadows. When Minerva was satisfied that he couldn't be seen. She nodded.

The guard exited. He returned a few seconds later with a hooded figure.

Harry's muscles tensed.

Wait.

The man walked forward, deeper into the room.

Wait.

One step. Two steps.

Strike.

He sprang from the shadows, as fast as the strike of a cobra. He hooked his foot under the other man's, ripped the hood off, and rode him to the ground with one smooth movement. His fingers tangled in his hair, twisting his head to the side and pressing the blade to his throat. The man under him cried out, straining against Harry's grip.

"Move and I'll slit your throat," he said softly. Hermione approached them, a small bottle of clear liquid in her hands, "Open your mouth," he said.

When the man didn't comply immediately, Harry pressed down harder with the blade, drawing blood, "I said open your mouth." He recognized the scar on his throat, to twin puncture wounds right above the jugular.

"When did you get to be so cold Potter," the man asked, opening his mouth and allowing Hermione to pore a few drops of liquid down his throat.

"Veritaserum," he said softly, "I thought you were planning on killing me."

"If we wanted you dead," McGonagall said, "Potter would have killed you. What is your name?"

"Severus Snape."

"You didn't die five years ago. How?"

"I was found and healed. After torturing me the Dark Lord accepted me back into his fold."

"Do you mean to harm anyone in this room?"

"No."

"Potter," McGonagall said.

Slowly Harry let him up, sheathing his blade with practiced ease.

"You've changed Potter," Snape said, standing just as slowly as if to show he was no threat.

"War will do that to you," he said coldly.

"Why are you here?" McGonagall continued.

"I have information that could help end the war," he said softly.

"What information?" this came from Ron.

"In a camp to the north east of this one there is a tent. In that tent is a Horcrux. The final Horcrux. If you destroy it you can end the war."

"What's guarding it?" Harry demanded. They had been looking for the eighth and final Horcrux from the moment Voldemort survived in the battle for Hogwarts.

"About 5000 Death Eaters and Parselmagic. All of the wards and the container it's in can only be destroyed by a Parselmouth."

Every eye turned to Harry, "How many people can you get in?" He asked softly.

"Only one."

"You're going to go," Luna said brightly. She had been gazing into space the entire time, but now she looked at Harry.

No one bothered to ask how she knew. Luna was a Seer.

"You can't be serious. He'd be slaughtered before he even got near it." Ron snapped. He had little faith in her abilities.

She shook her head, "No I see…" Her eyes misted over, "_The One with the power to defeat the Dark Lord has come…Blood and Death his kingdom is… On the seventh day of the seventh month the Chosen One will go into the dark… The Champion of the Light will enter the Darkness and out he will never again come… He will sacrifice himself on an altar of dark and vanquish the Dark Lord…" _Her breathing became ragged, and her head dropped suddenly. Blood dripped from her nose.

Neville gently took her hand, "Are you ok love?" he asked.

She nodded happily, "What did I say?"

"You said I'm going to die tomorrow." Harry's voice was soft, his eyes hard.

"This is insane!" George snapped, "You're not going to die because you're not actually going to go. Are you Harry?"

When he didn't answer, Ron stood and grabbed his arm, "You're not actually thinking about going?"

"If it will end the war." He whispered.

"No damn it! I'm not going to let you just kill yourself!" He roared, shaking Harry slightly.

"Ron!" McGonagall snapped, "Take your place at your seat or leave. How did you come across this information Severus?"

"The Dark Lord told me himself."

"He knows I'll come." Harry said thoughtfully.

"Harry," Hermione said desperately, "There's another way, there has to be."

"There is no other way," Luna said softly.

"Fuck off," Hermione snapped, "Harry?"

Harry was simply staring into space, thinking over the offer. _I can end the war if I do this… I have to die again…_ The thought was almost funny. He couldn't help but laugh.

"Harry?" McGonagall said softly, "What are you thinking?"

He shook his head. His gaze focused on Snape, "Come back tomorrow night," he said. He felt giddy, lightheaded. He knew he was going into shock. _Five years of war and I go into shock hearing that I have to die. _He laughed again, "May I be excused Minerva?"

"Of… of course Harry. We can talk about this more in the morning. When you're feeling better." She paused, "All of you are dismissed," she said as she watched Harry go, "Come back tomorrow Severus," she said softly, "He'll do it."

_**Thank you for reading Everyone! I hoped you liked this chapter! Since this is still new, all I have to say is please, please, please review! The next chapter will be the mission.**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_


	3. Going to Death

_**Hello Everyone!**_

_**Sorry for the wait. I had the fourth of July and then my birthday and didn't have time to write. Please forgive me… FanFiction Lover: *smirks* relax. Think about what was not said as well as what was. You will all see in good time. Pernicia Hart: I can assure you that I will make it as interesting as I possibly can. You have my word. Anyway this chapter is going to be the mission and is going to shape the story in a big way. I can't say anything more except…**_

_**I don't own Harry Potter!**_

_**Enjoy!**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_

**Chapter Two: Going to Death**

**Harry's POV**

He was alone. He stood in the center of the small kitchen in their tent dressed is a pair of tight black pants. He weapons were spread out on the small table. Harry leaned against the table, his head down, he palms pressed to the cool wood. His head hung low. His hair fell around him, hiding his face.

_I'm going to die._ He was numb, hallowed out by the realization.

He heard the tent flap swish open, but he didn't move.

"You can't do this," Hermione's arms slid around him from behind. She buried her face in his back.

"She's right Mate," Ron's hand pressed to his arm before sliding around his shoulders. Had it been anyone else he would have pushed them away. Hell, had he been anyone else it would have been awkward for a married couple to be holding a half-naked man. They had been through too much together. They shared a bed for Merlin's sake. There was nothing that could happen between them to prevent comfort from being given.

"You know I do," he didn't lift his head, "If there's even the small chance that this could change things you know I will do it."

"But…" Hermione's arms tightened.

"I've done it before," he reminded them. "Remember. I went into the forest to die. This is no different."

"We didn't know about that before you did it," Ron snapped.

"Both of you please leave me," his shoulders tightened. If they stayed he was sure he would back out, "I need to finish." He straightened and pulled away from them, "Please."

He didn't watch them go. He just couldn't do it. He slowly pulled the black long-sleeve shirt on. It too was tight, perfectly cut so that it clung to his body without restricting his movement. There were wards weaved into the fabric itself. Wards of protection and to prevent detection. They were the clothes of an assassin. _Perfect to die in_ he thought bitterly.

He strapped his armory into place with the same slow deliberate movements. Two along his forearms, one down his back. His gun he strapped under his left arm for a quick draw. A small holster on his right held his wand. A pair of boots laced up his calves, housing two more blades. Harry felt innately better armed.

Harry sat. _This is the last time I'm going to sit here. _His fingers worked through his hair until it was braided in one long line to his waist. _This is the last time I'll be in our home. _He was numb. He had sunk into a state of shock. From his pocket he pulled out a small envelope. He set it carefully in the center of their table. They would find it after he had left.

He sat there for several minutes, unable to bring himself to stand. He would have to go soon.

_It's time…_

He didn't want to leave.

_I don't want to die…_

He rose slowly like a swimmer coming from the water. He hesitated when he reached the flap.

_Don't look back._

He would never come back here when he walked out.

_I can't look back…_

He turned to look at the tent he had shared with his closest friends.

He couldn't do this.

Drawing in one long breath he turned and left his world behind.

He had to shove his way through the crowd when he reached the command tent. It seemed then everyone had found out about his mission and Luna's prophecy. She was never wrong, and they knew it. Hands lightly brushed against him as he passed. He ignored them. He pushed open the flap and every eye turned to him.

"Potter," The usual hardness was missing from McGonagall's voice, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

He nodded once, and turned to Snape, "When do we leave?"

"Merlin Harry you can't be so flippant about this!" George rushed forward, grabbing Harry by the shoulders, "Damn it you can't just be ok with dying. Luna isn't always right damn it!"

"George," Harry said softly, "Let go off me before I break every bone in your hand." There were only two people allowed to touch him, and he was neither.

George let go, backing away slowly.

"Luna has never been wrong," his voice was even, soft. It was the voice of a killer, "If she says that by my death I can end the war, I'm going to do it," he moved to the table. He laid his invisibility cloak on the small table and drew his wand. "I, Harry James Potter, final descendant of Ignotus Peverell, hereby pass on the cloak to the Weasly line. May it serve their family as it has served mine." he looked at Ron, "Give it to my godson," he said softly. Hermione was three months pregnant, and if the baby was no lost, the boy would be born nearing Christmas.

"Harry…" Ron's voice was desperate, pleading.

McGonagall stepped between them, "This," she held up a small vile with an amber colored liquid, "Is a very potent poison. It stops the heart within a second of ingestion. If you are captured take it without hesitation. You know too much about our army not to die if you're taken." There was pain in her eyes as she said it.

He took it, and slid it into the special pocket on his shoulder. He could chew threw it if he was bound. He turned to Snape, "We need to go now."

Snape nodded solemnly and walked out of the tent. Harry gave the people he loved one final look. The tears in their eyes were almost enough to make him stay. Almost.

Harry turned, "Have fun," Luna called after him dreamily.

They stood on the very edge of the wards that surrounded the Dark Lord's camp.

"The tent you are looking for is in the center," Snape said softly. His eyes were trained forward, he couldn't look at the other boy, "It's the largest one. You can't miss it." He drew his wand, "For what it's worth Potter, your mother would be proud."

Harry shook his head, drawing the shadows around him. He moved the moment the wards dropped. The camp was sleeping, silent save for the murmurings of the sentries as they made their rounds. No one seemed to notice the shadow slinking from one tent to the next. He was empty, hollowed out. He couldn't think about what would happen when he got there. He wouldn't do it if he did.

It didn't take him long to reach the tent he was looking for. He could feel the wards around it from several feet away. The Horcrux had to be here. There was no reason for the tent to be so well guarded. He lifted his hands, letting them hover an inch from the first set of wards, _"Open for me," _he hissed in Parseltongue. The first barriers melted away as if they had never been there. The second were harder, but he managed to drop them in less than five minutes.

He entered the tent. _This is too easy…_ He thought. The tent was empty. He could feel the first stirrings of Voldemort's magic. It was like bites along his skin. He moved absently through the manor like tent, following the pull of his enemy's magic. He passed no one. It was as if the place had been deserted. He could feel it centering in a small office. He smiled grimly. _This is too easy…_

Harry moved easily to the desk, dropping the magic covering him. He could feel the wards surrounding it and he set to work destroying them. He worked intently, only vaguely aware of the room around him. When he finally emerged from his work, an hour had passed. The power was coming from the top drawer. He reached for it. His heart was in his throat. He pulled to drawer open slowly.

It was empty.

The door crashed open.

He had made a mistake.

It was a trap.

Harry didn't bother to go for a weapon. There was too many of them. He tore the shoulder out of his shirt as Death Eaters flooded the room.

He brought the vile to his lips.

"Stop him!" Snape cried.

Hands grabbed him, spilling the poison down his shirt.

"No!" he snarled. He struggled as hands forced him to the ground, pressing his face into the floor.

"The Dark Lord will be pleased," Lucius purred, looking down at the struggling boy.

Snape nodded and raised his wand.

"Fucking traitor," Harry struggled harder, "You betrayed us!"

Snape said nothing. His eyes were empty as he met Harry's heated gaze and knelt beside his former student. With a flick of his wand, Harry felt his mind cloud over.

"She said it was necessary," Snape's voice was the last thing her heard before darkness took him.

_**Thank you for reading Everyone! I am so so so so sorry that you had to wait. Please forgive a busy writer. I'm sorry if it's not that good. Be nice in your comments if it's bad…**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_


	4. First Contact

_**Hello Everyone**_

_**I'm glad the last chapter was well received. I won't apologize for the cliffhanger. I've got to keep you coming back somehow. Ananas: I would never not give credit where credit is due. I love to experiment with writing styles, and when I see one I like I will give it a try. However I will always give credit to the writer I got it from. Anyway, this chapter will contain Harry's first meeting with the Dark Lord, as well as some of his… reeducation. The only warning I have for this chapter is… WARNING: This chapter will contain violent acts such as torture and rape. If you do not like it do NOT read. I don't know how else to put it. You have been warned.**_

_**I don't own Harry Potter.**_

_**Enjoy!**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_

**Chapter Three: First Contact**

**Tom's POV**

He was winning the war.

The Dark Lord sat behind his desk, reading over the reports from the last major battle.

The light's army had fallen right into their trap. They had been slaughtered. Towards the end he had seen his advisory. A long-haired warrior, fighting as if it was what he had been born to do. There was so much fire in his eyes. He would give anything to have the pleasure of extinguishing that fire. Lord Voldemort smiled grimly. All was going well.

He set aside his paperwork aside and stood, going over to the wall of windows that made up most of his office. The night was quiet, stars shone bright through the trees. The large, sloping lawn of the Malfoy Manor shone blue under the light of the full moon. The Dark Lord smiled again. He would be crushing the rebel army soon, and then he would truly be ruler of the wizarding world. He had taken control after the battle at Hogwarts, but the Order had begun its rebellion right after. _Soon that will be the only world left._ He vowed. He would eliminate the muggle populace and bring his people out of hiding.

There was a soft knock on the door, "Enter." He snapped, not turning from the window. Through the reflection on the window he could see two on his inner circle kneel in the center of the room, "Severus. Lucius. You had better have a good reason for interrupting me."

"We do my Lord,'" Lucius said. He kept his head bowed as the Dark Lord approached him. "We have captured a person of interest my Lord."

"And that is?" he asked coolly. They knew the consequences of presenting him wrong information.

"My Lord, if I may go get him?" He remained on his knees until the Dark Lord nodded.

"If you have displeased me Severus your death will be slow and painful."

Snape disappeared for a moment. Voldemort smiled slightly. He loved the fear in his eyes; it was just this side of erotic. When Snape returned, he came with a group of Death Eaters. They were surrounding a struggling hooded man. Two of them tried to hold him, but he broke free every time their hands touched him. Three of them rushed forward, half dragging half pushing him forward.

The Dark Lord smiled. _Who could possibly be so bold as to fight like that?_

They forced the man to his knees at his feet and Severus came forward. He looked brazenly at his master, "My Lord," he said as he ripped the hood from the prisoner.

His eyes widened slightly, "Harry Potter," he purred. A pleased smirk pulled at his lips, "The Boy Who Lived." He motioned for his Death Eaters to back away and they obeyed without hesitation. He circled slowly around the struggling younger man, "What brings you to my home?"

"Fuck you," he snarled. His hands were bound behind his back, his hair had come unbraided, hanging like long and heavy curtain around him.

The Dark Lord _tsk_ed and pulled his wand, "_Crucio,"_ He watched him writhe at his feet, but no sound came from his mouth. He released Harry after only a few seconds, "You would do best Mister Potter to remember where you are and who you're talking to."

Harry glared up at him, and tried to stand, "Fuck. You." He said slowly. His eyes held a spark of fire, defiant at his very core.

"_Crucio."_ This time he let the curse hold for longer, until the Chosen One screamed in agony. "Language Mister Potter. I can keep this up all day." He waved his wand and chains wrapped around his throat and wrists, forcing him to remain on his knees. "Severus, wherever did you find such a prize?"

"He was sneaking into one of our camps. He seemed convinced that there was a Horcrux hidden in the camp," Snape said simply.

The Dark Lord nodded and looked over his prisoner, "Now what to do with you." He crouched down in front of him and his struggling increased. He lightly trailed his fingers down Harry's cheek, causing him to nearly scream in pain. "I don't suppose you'll give me any information willingly?" He said, obviously amused.

"Fuck off," Harry snarled.

"I thought you would say that." The Dark Lord stood, "Take him to the basement, get him undressed and prepared for interrogation." With that he waved his hand, dismissing his Death Eaters, "Oh and Severus, you will be rewarded handsomely for this."

"Thank you, my Lord," he said with a bow.

He watched as Harry was drug out fighting every step of the way. _This is going to be fun…_

**Harry's POV**

The stone was cold against his bare back. He strained once again against the magical chains that bound him upright to the wall to no avail. He had been taken him to one of the many cells that made up the bottom floor of the manor. It was nothing but cold stone with a small drain in the center. He didn't want to think what it was for. He could feel the wards around the room, suppressing his magic. Anger rolled off him in waves. He had trusted Snape. After what he had done, giving his life for their cause five years ago, Harry had thought him brave and noble. But he had lied, and there was no doubt Harry was about to pay dearly for it. He struggled again. He knew he was about to learn what true pain was. He had to escape. There was always a way.

The door opened slowly and Voldemort stepped inside followed by his inner circle. Harry stood stock still, his eyes locking with the Dark Lords. _Remember your training…_ He made his face empty. There was no way he could give him the satisfaction of seeing his fear.

The Dark Lord paid him no mind as he casually striped off his robe, handing it to one of the masked figures standing by the door. His shoes came next, those he set by the door. He was dressed casually, in an old, over-washed pair of jeans and a black shirt. When he was ready he walked smoothly towards Harry.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk Harry?" he hissed. His red eyes danced as he surveyed the naked warrior in front of him.

Harry's jaw tightened and the Dark Lord grinned, "I was hoping you would say that." He reached up and took hold his pointer finger, pulling down sharply.

Pain made Harry's stomach lurch. He screamed despite himself, gritting his teeth as the finger was twisted painfully.

"You're sure you want to play this game little boy," he purred. "I can hurt you in more ways than you can imagine." He broke his middle finger as if to make his point.

"Go to hell," he panted when he was sure he wouldn't puke from the pain.

"Have it your way," he moved to a rack of muggle devices and picked up a small hammer. He moved with slow deliberateness, looking Harry in the eye as he shattered both of his kneecaps.

He screamed, his body arching against the chains. The Dark Lord moved again, breaking three ribs with the same deliberate movements he had used before. He waved his wand absently. The chains vanished, sending Harry crashing to the floor. He cried out, his stomach heaving as he emptied the contents of his stomach on the Dark Lords feet. The man _tsked_ again, kicking Harry in the face and sending him sprawling. "Is this already too much for you Potter?" he taunted.

Harry did as was expected. He staggered to his feet, launching himself at Voldemort before he could put too much weight on his legs. The man moved out of the way, laughing when he fell with another cry of pain. He moved so that he was crouched over his enemy. He trailed a knife down his side, plunging it deep before he could move.

His scream was defining this time. Voldemort tore the knife from his body, sealing the gash before he could bleed out but leaving a scar, "_Crucio!"_ He snarled. Pain made his body writhe. He clenched his eyes shut, vaguely aware of the sounds that were coming from his throat and the maniacal laughter from the Death Eaters. He lay there twitching slightly when the curse was lifted.

"Are you ready to talk Harry?" the Dark Lord hissed.

"Is… That all… you've got?" Harry gasped. He could hardly breathe past the pain in his ribs, but he wouldn't break. Not yet.

"Oh Harry, I have only just begun." He flicked his wand again and chains snaked around his wrists and ankles, pressing him spread eagle on his stomach to the icy stone. The bonds were tight; he couldn't move even an inch.

He felt the light press of metal to his back, above his waist. He screamed as two lines were carved there, their ends meeting to form a small "V." Even more painful was the liquid that was drizzled over the wound. He gritted his teeth until he was sure they would break. There was the shuffle of movement behind him, the sound of a zipper opening.

His eyes flew open, suddenly understanding, "No," he gasped, nearly pulling his arm from its socket as he fought against the chains.

"It seems I have your attention," the Dark Lord murmured, pressing himself against Harry, letting him understand what would come next if he didn't break. "Perhaps you're ready to talk?"

Harry didn't trust himself to speak; he simply glared at the wall.

"Very well Mister Potter," He shoved himself deep into his prisoner, making him squawk in pain. He didn't give him a chance to adjust to the feel of him; he simply set to work thrusting fast and hard in and out of him. His fingers twisted in his hair, pressing his face to the stone floor as he viciously took him.

Tears of pain and shame sprung to Harry's eyes. He struggled the best he could, but that only seemed to excite Voldemort more. It seemed to last an impossible amount of time, but it had likely been no more than a handful of minutes. Voldemort pulled roughly from the Chosen One, his seed dripping from between his legs. He straightened his clothes, his composure unruffled as he looked down at Harry. "I will be back. Use the time I give you to think about your future choices. And please remember Harry Potter," he sneered the name, "This is only a taste, a sample of what I will do to you if you do not talk when I return." Without another word he left, his Death Eaters trailing after him. The door locked, leaving Harry alone and in pain in the dark.

**Snape's POV**

"My Lord," Snape sat in the chair across from his desk, biting his lip. It had been difficult to watch Lily's son be tortured. Despite everything, he had deep feelings for the boy. He regretted his betraying him, but the letter had said it was of the upmost importance that Harry be captured.

"Yes Severus?" the Dark Lord had changed back into his usual slacks and button up shirt. He never dressed nice for torture, claiming getting blood out of clothes was a nightmare.

"Forgive me Sir, but I don't understand. Harry Potter will not break," he flinched at the sharp look he received, "Forgive me my Lord, I only meant that it will take an extreme amount of effort to break him. I know him. If he thought it was for the 'greater good' you could torture him for a hundred years and he would never crumble."

"Do you think I am a fool Severus?" Voldemort asked calmly.

"No my Lord."

"There is a reason that I have taken over the wizarding world. I know people. I know Mister Potter as well as you, and I'm telling you, he will break. It just takes the right pushing. I don't care what kind of information he has; I have all but won this war. I just need him beaten to the point where I can rebuild him. Harry Potter is the second most powerful wizard in existence; he will make a valuable asset. When the light sees their hero broken, how do you think they will react?" he didn't give Snape a chance to answer, "They will be crushed. They will lose their will to fight," he smiled grimly, "Take away a man's hope and he will do almost anything. I'm counting on that with Mister Potter."

Snape nodded, "But-"

"Severus, you're making me regret sparing your miserable life. Leave me or you will join our savior in the dungeons."

Snape nodded, and immediately left. He had to contact her anyway. She had to know that all is going according to plan.

_**Thank you for reading Everyone! I hope you don't hate me forever because of this chapter. I swear on my integrity as a writer that there will be love and romance and non-rape sex in this fanfic. I just have to get through the preliminary stuff first. If you don't like it, tell me in a constructive way. Please just hang with me if that chapter was bad. The next one will be a time skip of a few months.**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_


	5. Breaking

_**Hello Everyone!**_

_**I'm glad no one hates me for the last chapter! raven1493: have patience. Just because he hasn't done anything yet doesn't mean he won't. Also understand this; I will post faster if I get reviews. There will still be chapters posted, but they will come faster if you review the chapters. Understand? Good. I've decided to do a few time skips in this chapter, one a few days after, one a few months after, and one about a year after. This will be mostly in Harry's POV but I will also have a short scene back at the Order and some in Voldemort's POV. This chapter is going to be a bit longer, so I hope you like it. WARNING: This chapter will have more instances of graphic torture as well as mention/actual rape. If you don't like, don't read. Don't say I didn't warn you…**_

_**I don't own Harry Potter!**_

_**Enjoy!**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_

**Chapter Three: Breaking**

**Harry's POV**

_Three Days Later… August 15_

His body screamed in agony when he rolled onto his stomach. A low whine pulled from his throat, making it burn worse than it had before. Screaming had left his throat raw, to the point where even breathing brought tears to his eyes. Lacerations oozed blood where they crossed his back. From what he had felt at the time they were words, spread lover his shoulders. _Harry Potter. The Chosen One. _Spelled out in small letters from shoulder to shoulder. Rodolphus Lestrange, as it turned out, was even more talented with a blade than his wife.

Harry gasped as a wave of trembling overtook him. He could feel the wounds opening on his back, bleeding heavy again. The cruciatus curse had done damage to his nerves, causing unpredictable bouts of spasms. Despite the pain, he cried out. He curled his body around itself and rode out the pain. Tears slid from his eyes as he laid there spent.

Not for the first time he prayed to whatever god there may be that for death. He lifted his gaze and looked for the hundredth time at the rack that held the instrument of torture he had become all too familiar with. For the hundredth time he painfully crawled to it. He was very aware of his broken ribs and the agony that ripped through his ass and thighs with every move as eh pulled to no avail on one of the knives.

They were warded so that he couldn't remove them. He let out a small groan of frustration, and sank back down until his cheek pressed to the wooden leg of the rack. It had only been days, of that he was sure, and already he wanted death. The "interrogation" as Voldemort had called it followed no pattern. Sometimes it was only he that tortured him, while other times he enlisted the help of his Death Eaters. Sometimes he would go an entire session only using magic, while others he would carve deep into Harry's flesh. There was no set time frame that it occurred in, the time in between stretching minutes to hours. The only thing that remained uniform was the Dark Lord mounting Harry from behind, taking him rough and fast. No one was allowed to touch him like that.

Harry closed his eyes as another wave of tremors hit him. This one lasted longer than the last. His vision blurred. He moved slowly, forcing himself to sit up. He braced his hand against the bottom of the rack and pushed up. Something sharp cut deep into his palm. He frowned at the wound. There was nothing sharp enough to cut himself with. He had checked.

His fingers trailed over the wood. _There. _A nail stuck slightly out of the top. He bit his lip. Without thinking he dug his fingers into the wood. It gave slightly. His heart raced and he tore at it with the fevered intensity of a madman. Blood seeped from his fingers as his nails tore, but he didn't stop. He could hear footsteps echoing from down the hall and he worked faster. He nearly cried with relief when he finally was able to pull it free.

The nail was long, about four inches in length. It had been pounded into the soft mortar between the stones to hold the rack in place, and now it was his way out. There was the roar of laughter just behind the door, followed by the jingle of keys. Harry didn't hesitate. He plunged the metal deep into his arm, slicing down to his wrist. He gritted his teeth, barely containing the scream that threatened to give him away. He could feel his resolve wavering, and he would do what it took to keep the people he loved safe. He forced his hand to grip the nail. He slit the wrist just as the door opened.

His gaze met the Dark Lords.

Seconds passed.

Blood gushed from the gashes.

His head swam.

"No!"

He was falling.

Hands gripped him.

"_Damn you. Don't you dare die on me,"_ even as he fell he recognized Parseltongue.

_He was sinking into the light. She stood there, hair as red as fire. _

_Yes…_

"_My love," her fingers curled around his._

_Yes…_

There was pain suddenly.

_He frowned._

"_My love…"Her image wavered._

_No!_

The pain jerked him upward.

"No!" his scream tore his throat raw. He was in his cell. The stench of piss and shit filled his nose anew. He was surrounded by Death Eaters, and in the Dark Lord's arms. He fought with everything he had oblivious to the pain in his battered body.

The Dark Lord's fingers twisted in his hair, pulling it sharply so that he had to look him in the eye, "If you want death you will beg for it just like everyone else," he snarled. There was anger in his gaze.

Harry spit in his face. His eyes glowed with fury. He dropped him, stepping back, drawing his wand, "_Crucio!_" Harry screamed, writing in agony as the curse tore through him. The spell held for an ungodly amount of time. When it was released he collapsed, his body trembling with the aftershock. "Beg for it Harry Potter," Voldemort snarled, "_Crucio!"_ Again he kept him under until he was sure the pain would drive him insane. "Beg me to kill you. Beg and the pain will end."

Harry looked up at him, and croaked out something. Voldemort came closer, until Harry's lips touched his ear, "Fuck you." He gasped. He didn't see the blow that caught him across the right side of his face. There was a sickening crunch as his nose shattered. He twisted to get out of the way of the assault, crawling on his stomach to the far end of the room. There was a burning sensation through his lower back on the left side. He cried out, his voice breaking under the strain.

The Dark Lord grabbed the knife sticking from his back, and drug him back to the center of the room. Voldemort buried himself suddenly into his ass, his lips pressed to his ear, "Beg Harry Potter," he grunted, shoving himself harder.

He could do no more than gasp softly. His voice gone from the screams. He was fading again. Not like before, to the light and his love, but to the darkness that was unconsciousness.

_I want to die… _was the last thought in his head before the world vanished.

_Five Weeks Later… September 21_

_Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix_

"We have to give up the search," McGonagall tucked a lock of hair that had fallen from her bun behind her ear, "It's been too long."

"No! If they had captured him they wouldn't be broadcasting it, and if he were dead we would know. He would be sure to tell the whole world that he had killed Harry," Ron glared openly at his commanding officer.

"One more outburst Ronald and I will eliminate you from the council. We don't know where he is. Our spies have seen nothing, heard _nothing_," she stressed the last word when Ron made to protest, "That indicates that Harry has been taken. Our best hope is that he is laying low and trying to get back to us."

"So we're just going to give up on him?" Hermione laid her hand over her growing stomach, her eyes flashing with anger.

"Mione," Ron said softly. He put his hands over hers, "Remember the baby love."

"Yes." McGonagall snapped, "We can't pore our valuable resources into finding one person. One man does not make an army."

"When that one man happens to be Harry Potter, the only person that stands a chance at defeating You Know Who, we should be doing everything in our power to get him back," Lavender argued.

"Harry Potter is dead," McGonagall declared. "As of this moment, Harry is dead," her voice softened, "Spread the word throughout the ranks. Tell them there will be a memorial service for him tonight. In the morning we attack the camp to the south. Dismissed."

The word spread like wildfire. By the time the sun set, everyone, in every arm across Britain had heard of Harry's death.

_Malfoy Manor: Dungeons_

Pain. All he knew was pain. For the millionth time is seemed his bones snapped. A fresh scar tore open on his chest. Blood trailed down his body.

Another kick to the ribs.

He couldn't help but think that he was liking this.

It had been a week since he had seen anyone, hear anything but the sound of his own heartbeat. Any contact was better than utter solitude.

He could sense Him standing in the corner. Watching. Ensuring that this went the way he wanted it.

He looked into his eyes, "Beg and I will end this for you." It was an old chant, a familiar one.

He wanted death, but for some reason he knew that he could not ask for it.

_Something… something to do with why I'm here… Who am I…? _

He couldn't remember.

_Why can't I beg-_

The thought was cut short by more pain. He let out a small wine. That was all he could do. His voice was all but gone.

"Enough," He said, waving the man away, "He's close. He needs time to think." He smiled. They left without another word…

_Eleven months later… August 5_

Silence.

Darkness.

Nothing.

Not nothing.

1500 stones above.

1300 below.

Solid walls.

Crack for feet down in back.

Move.

Shutter.

_Ow. Too much…_

Breaths slow.

_How long?_

_Too long._

_You want to die._

_Yes. Want to die._

Footsteps.

Doesn't matter.

Door opens.

No movement.

No point.

Nothing will stop them.

_Ask him to kill you._

_No!_

_Can't._

_Why?_

_Don't know._

Hands on his back.

No reaction.

"The Dark Lord wants him cleaned up and brought to him."

Familiar voice.

Anger.

_Bad voice. He did this to you._

Hands gently role him over.

Long hair.

Greasy.

Black eyes.

Pained.

"I am so sorry Harry."

So soft.

_Is that your name?_

_Harry?_

_Harry?_

_Harry…Potter?_

_Yes._

Something he should remember.

Not important.

Hands open his mouth.

Bitter.

He chokes.

Fingers on his nose.

"Drink Harry. It will help."

Hands move him again.

No pain this time.

_No pain? Always pain._

He misses it.

Pain is familiar.

More bitter.

Burning over his skin.

No reaction.

More hands.

Lift him.

Wet.

Hot.

Soothing.

His feet brace against the warm metal tub.

Hands and cloth over his body.

Scrub lightly.

Fingers in his hair.

Bubbles.

No pain.

Water over his head.

Choking.

"Hold your breath next time."

Greasy hair looks at him sadly.

"If I didn't know any better Severus, I'd say you were going soft."

Blonde hair.

Long, but not as long as his.

Cold gray eyes.

Sweet cream in his hair.

Fingers force through the snarls.

No pain.

More water over his head.

_Hold your breath!_

No choking.

Water empties.

Soft cloth around him.

Dry now.

Brush in his hair.

"You know he really does have beautiful hair." Blonde hair.

"He does." Greasy hair.

They lift him.

"He's so light. I've never seen anyone this thin."

More bitter.

His stomach hurts.

"What was that?"

"Nutrition potion. It's all he's had since he's came here."

They try and make him stand.

His legs collapse.

"We're going to have to carry him."

Towards the door.

_No! Not allowed out._

In the hall.

Bright.

Stairs.

More bright.

Pain again.

_Sweet sweet pain._

Closes his eyes.

_No! Back. Please back!_

Tries to speak but no sound.

Through the bright.

More stairs.

Through doors.

He's at a desk.

He looks up.

_Please don't hurt me. They took me out. I'll go back…_

"**Back to your cupboard boy…"**

"_Yes Sir. Please no more pain."_

They're not here, but He is.

He's worse.

"My Lord," Greasy Hair and Blonde Hair bow.

**Tom's POV**

He looked up every few seconds to glare at the door. He had sent those fools down there hours ago to fetch his prize. A year. It had been nearly a full year, and the Chosen One had finally broken.

He had told them nothing, absolutely nothing about the Order, and he had yet to beg for death, but he was broken all the same. Severus had been right, the boy had been nearly impossible to break, but Voldemort knew that look. The empty stare of someone who was no longer there. There was still fire, he knew that much, but it would be crushed when it came to his reeducation.

He had done everything he could think of to Harry Potter. Rape, stabbing, broken bones, isolation, magic, and still the boy held on to that flicker of fire. He had lasted almost a year. Most didn't get pasted a month before they were singing, but he was strong. He was his only equal. But he was broken now. He hadn't reacted in weeks. He simply took whatever abuse he could give.

The doors opened. He looked over the thin, broken figure that was dragged in and deposited in front of him. He had all but lost all the muscle he had come here with. He was little more than skin stretched tight over bones. Scars crossed nearly every surface of his body. Artful and with purpose on his torso while lazy and random on his arms and legs. The only thing that remained the same was his hair, long and beautiful to his knees. The Dark Lord couldn't bring himself to cut it. It was too beautiful. His body had been scrubbed clean of the blood, shit, and sperm that had encrusted it. His skin glowed pale, nearly as white as his own.

He raised his head. His eyes were dead, save for the smallest spark of fear. The Dark Lord stood and moved slowly around the desk. His eyes followed him. His breathing picked up speed. Voldemort could all but smell the fear on him.

"Do you know why you're here?" he asked softly.

He didn't react. His body curled in on itself until he was in a ball as his feet.

"You've been in pain for so long Harry," he knelt. He let the familiar scrip come from his lips. All of his Death Eaters had gone thought this. They had all been tested, and broken. It was the only way to ensure loyalty. "That's over now," he kept his words soft, soothing. "So long as you are a good pupil, you will never be harmed again. Disobey and you will be punished, obey and you will be rewarded." The boy flinched when Voldemort ran his fingers though his hair. "You have no reason to fear me now. I will not harm you save for punishment."

Those dead eyes just looked back at him.

"You will be taught how to be mine. Your lessons will begin immediately," he stood again, "The rules are simple, I give you a command, or ask you a question only twice. If you do not comply you will be punished. Do you understand?"

There was no answer.

"I asked if you understand," his voice hardened slightly.

"My Lord," Severus whispered, "He… He has no voice. It has not been fixed. He cannot talk."

Voldemort nodded, and pulled out his wand. The fear was evident in his eyes now. With and absent wave, he healed the damage done, "Can you speak?" he asked.

There was a long pause, and he was about to ask again when he spoke, "Yes," his voice was rough, soft from lack of use.

"Lesson one: you will always address me as 'Sir' or 'My Lord.' Do you understand?"

Another long pause, "Yes…" pain crossed his features, "My…My Lord." He turned his face away, burying it in the floor.

"Do you understand the terms of your reeducation?"

"Yes My Lord." He could hear the tears in his voice. He didn't know if they were because he remembered who he had once been or if it was only a slight recognition, but Harry was crying.

"Do you remember your name?" He asked softly.

There was no answer.

"Do you remember your name?"

Still nothing.

"_Crucio,"_ the man in front of him screamed softly and Voldemort released him after only a second, "It will be worse if you do not answer again. Do you remember your name?"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"I-I can't."

"_Crucio,"_ He held if for longer this time, making his newly repaired vocal cords burn. "You can and you will. Yes what?"

"Yes my Lord." More tears.

"What is your name?"

"I-I think it's Harry… Harry Potter?" he hesitated, "My Lord."

The Dark Lord smiled, "Yes Harry, very good. Who are you?"

The response came after a shorter pause, "I am Harry Potter," he said slowly. Voldemort could see the memories coming back in stages. "I am," he frowned, "I am a solder." He breathed, "I fought for the Order of the Phoenix against…" another frown, "Against you," he cringed as if expecting to be hit.

"Go on."

"I am…was…an Order member." His eyes flew around the room, "Those are mine." His gaze locked on the small pile of things on the desk. A pair of black clothes, a small armory, a wand, and a gold chain with the tiny wedding ring of a woman on it. "My best friends were Ron and Hermione Weasley and I-"

"That is enough," the Dark Lord said softly. This was going better than he had expected. He had well and truly broken the light's Savior. "We will continue in the morning. Severus and Lucius will have you fed, clothed and taken to rooms I've prepared for you. You will be given back your things in the morning. You will go nowhere unaccompanied by myself or one of them until I say otherwise do you understand?"

"Yes… my Lord." There was still that reluctance to address him as "My Lord" but they would work on it.

"Dismissed," he said simply. He watched Severus and Lucius rush forward to help him stand. They held his light frame between them as they carried him out of the office. This would be interesting. In a week's time, he would revel to the light what he had done to their Precious Harry Potter, and they would be crushed. The news of his "death" had rallied them, and they had won a handful of major battles over the past year, but this would hurt their morale. He just had to teach Potter the basics of being his. It wouldn't take long. If today was any judgment, Harry would crumble as all of his followers had…

_**Thank you for reading Everyone! I hope you like it. Please have pity on a poor author if it's not good! And PLEASE review. I write more and better when you do. The next chapter will be Harry's training, and the meeting. Will training go as Voldemort hopes? We'll have to see. With love:**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_


	6. Reeducation

_**Hello Everyone!**_

_**I'm glad you liked the last chapter, I got some great feedback. Just to clarify things… Muttley; Q3Apo: there will be actual love between them. It will be a little bit of Stockholm at first, but that will change, you just have to wait for it. Mistress of Darkness32: if I told you any of that I would ruin the story. All I can say is you will find out, and there will be answers this chapters. And finally FanFiction Lover: you read it twice? That is so sweet. I'm glad you like it. You are one of my biggest supporters, and the Dark will prevail, that much is certain. Anyway this chapter will be a bit of Harry's training and a much needed revelation to the Light that Harry is in fact alive. There is no warning for this chapter.**_

_**I don't own Harry Potter!**_

_**Enjoy!**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_

**Chapter Five: Reeducation**

**Harry's POV**

The slightest change in air pressure woke him. Before the soft swish of air reached his ears, Harry was up in the bed. His fingers curled around the blade under his pillow.

"You're awake," Severus said as he walked into the room. He carried a small bowl of broth, and a bundle of clothes.

Harry let go of the blade and looked blankly at the other man. He felt the first stirrings of anger in the pit of his stomach. He was the reason for his time in hell after all. He crushed it immediately. There was no room for anger; it would only end in pain.

He would do anything if it meant it would end the torment he had gone through.

Severus sat next to him on the bed, and as he had every morning for the past week days, he handed him the bowl. After a year without food, the broth was the best thing he had ever tasted. There was only enough for a mouthful. Food had to be reintroduced slowly, little by little as to not send his system into shock. After he had "eaten" Severus handed him what he would be wearing that day. It was the same uniform as the rest of the Death Eaters: black pants, white button up shirt, black socks, black shoes, and a soft hooded black cloak.

He dressed in front of Severus. He had no modesty left. His hair he braided, before following Severus to his Master's office where he would kneel before Him and wait for their lessons to begin.

Every morning it was the same routine. He had thought to ask why that was, but fear stilled his tongue. He was terrified that he would be sent back down to the basements. The routine had a purpose of that he was sure; if the Dark Lord wanted him to know he would tell him. The light relaxation that served as his sleep and nourishment had cleared his head, and the routine made sure he didn't have to think about anything except his teachings.

"Stand." The command came short and soft.

He stood with only a moment's hesitation.

_Don't think about it, just act. Just obey._

He could still feel the slightest spark of rebellion in him, a dull ache that told him that death would be better than serving the Dark Lord. Like his hatred for Severus, he crushed it. There were worse things than death.

"Bring me the portfolio on the third shelf," another short command.

Another moment of torn hesitation.

"Harry," he knew that tone, soft and angry, "Bring it to me."

He swallowed hard, "Yes…My Lord." The words burned as they left his lips. He plucked the leather portfolio from the shelf and handed it to him.

The Dark Lord nodded his thanks, never lifting his eyes from his work. Harry resumed his position on his knees and waited. Hours passed it seemed, and his legs cramped painfully from remaining in one position for so long. His teeth sank into his lip and he shifted his weight slightly, in an attempt to alleviate the pain in his legs. He wanted nothing more than to ask to be dismissed, but he wasn't willing to risk angering him.

"Is there something you'd like to say Mister Potter," Voldemort asked. His gaze never left the papers.

"No Sir," he murmured, stilling immediately.

"Are you sure?" his cold red eyes settled on Harry, making his heart race.

"Yes My Lord."

**Tom's POV**

He stood and walked slowly around the desk, "Are you lying to me Harry?" He asked. He lifted Harry's chin with one finger, forcing him to look him in the eye.

His muscles tensed, and the softest whine of fear pulled from his throat, "Yes My Lord," he admitted. His breathing spiked and fear flooded his green eyes.

Vodemort smiled slightly. He had been working with the boy for a week now, and he was all but compliant. As long as it had taken to break him, he was learning faster than anyone he had ever seen. He was sure it was the fear he saw in his eyes. It was beautiful really. Voldemort didn't even have to threaten to punish him and Harry bowed. He had only had to punish him twice since his education had begun. "Why?"

When Harry simply shook his head he tightened his fingers tightened. "I'm sorry my Lord," he whimpered, "I wanted to ask if I could be excused."

"I know," he said with a slight smirk, "I was waiting for you to ask." At Harry's confused expression, he laughed, "Tell me what the point of this was?"

"My Lord?" he asked softly.

"You may speak freely Harry. What was the point of this lesson?" he asked again.

"I…wasn't aware there was any lesson going on my Lord," he admitted, "You've hardly said a word to me."

"Exactly. Go on."

"I'm sorry my Lord," he flinched, as if expecting to be hit.

"You need to understand Harry. You are no longer a prisoner here," the shock that crossed his face was priceless. He almost laughed, "You are a member of my order. That is what these lessons are about, to teach you how to act as such. If you desire something, to do something, you needn't be afraid of speaking. Unless the action is outright defiance there will be no repercussions of speaking your mind. Do you understand?" His tone was filled with endless patience. This was a lesson that always needed to happen. After the torture, they needed to understand that they could trust him. It was the most effective way of recruiting an ally: cruelty and then kindness.

"I do my Lord," Harry said slowly. He could see the realization in his eyes. This was often the final thing he had to teach his followers.

"Good," he glanced up as Severus entered, "Perfect, right on time." He motioned for Harry to stand, "Severus will prepare you for tonight."

"Tonight my Lord?" Harry asked. There was trust in his eyes.

"Yes, we have a very important appointment. It's time that you proved yourself Harry."

"Of course my Lord," he was compliant, submissive.

This was the best case he had ever had of someone submitting to him. The Order was going to love this, "Severus we leave in an hour."

Within the hour, he and his inner circle stood in his office. They had been forbidden to say anything about where they were going. He had no idea how Harry would react, and he needed him to go along with this. They were all dressed in their traditional long black robes and mask save for Harry and himself. They were dressed in the same floor length cloak, the only difference was that Harry's hood was pulled up to hide his face and he was naked underneath. The Dark Lord smiled slightly, it was all coming together.

Wordlessly, he gripped Harry's arm, apparating just outside the Order's wards. The others had their orders; they would follow.

**Harry's POV**

"My Lord," he gasped when his feet touched the ground. He knew this place. He had spent the better part of five years here.

"Shh," the Dark Lord hissed, and he complied.

_He will tell me in time_. He assured himself.

The other Death Eaters appeared seconds later. With an almost careless wave of his wand, Vodemort created a hole in the wards large enough for them all to step inside.

Harry felt his blood run cold, "You really were just playing with us." He murmured under his breath.

The Dark Lord only smiled. He kept a firm hand on Harry's arm as they made their way silently towards the center of the camp. There were fires burning deeper in the camp, and he could hear the sound of conversation and merriment. They passed no one on the way. Another wave of his wand and the ground trembled, the earth rising up to create a sort of platform.

There was the sound of running footsteps, followed by screams when they saw who had invaded their camp. Spells flew, and the Death Eaters deflected them easily. He pressed his wand to his throat, "Order! Lay down your arms! I have brought you a gift." his voice boomed over the crowd, effectively freezing everyone. Harry could see Ron and Hermione as well as the rest of the counsel standing closest to the stage. "For years you have defied my rule, but tonight that comes to an end. Cease this fighting, and you will be forgiven, continue and you will be slaughtered."

"Like hell," Ron snarled. Harry felt his stomach tighten, the rebellion that he had been suppressing reared its head. If he could get to them, he would be free.

The Dark Lord only laughed, "Perhaps you need proof of my power. Perhaps you need to see the consequences." Harry was shoved in front of him, and the clasp that held the cloak was unhooked.

There was a collective cry of outrage. Harry made to cover himself, but the Dark Lord pinned his hands behind his back.

"Harry!" Ron cried. He could feel the other boy studying him, taking in every scar that was clearly visible, and his withered state.

Others were calling his name, tears streaming down their cheeks.

"This is what will become of you all if you continue to fight," he released Harry, "On your knees Harry Potter," he hissed. When Harry didn't react, he pressed his wand to the base of his neck, "Kneel," he commanded.

Harry resisted. It felt as if something were tearing him apart. He felt the unbearable urge to bow if only it would save him the pain, but there was something hard in him, forcing him to remain standing, "Fight," he bellowed to the crowd, "Never give in. Never back down." For one glorious moment, Harry was who he had been a year ago, a leader, a warrior, just before the pain tore through him.

His knees came unhinged under the pain of the Cruciatus Curse. He screamed louder than he had in his life. He was vaguely aware of the riot that was starting below, but all he could think about as the pain. The moment it was lifted, Harry lay crying at his feet. The pain was enough; he made no move to rise.

"I'm sorry my Lord," he whimpered for all to hear. He inched forward and in full view of the crowd kissed the Dark Lord's feet, "Please forgive me." Tears fell from his eyes. Tears of defeat, of shame.

"Look at what has become of your great warrior. Your Chosen One," there was silence as all watched in horror. "You have two weeks to come and bow at my feet or I will crush you." And then they were gone, back in his office.

The moment they appeared, the Dark Lord's fingers twined in his hair, jerking his head up. His red eyes glowed, "How dare you," he snarled. His face twisted in a mask of fury. "I should kill you for that."

Like before, the defiance rose in him, "Then do it," he hissed. "Do it _Tom,"_ he sneered the name, and was rewarded with shock that that crossed the Dark Lord's face. "That's right Tom. I know all about you. The orphaned half-blood of the dirt of the wizarding world and the _muggle_ he fucked." Even through his anger, Harry knew he was in trouble.

He didn't see the blow that connected with his face, knocking him across the room. His back connected with the wall, knocking the breath from his lungs. He glared up at Lord Voldemort in time to see him aim a kick into his chest. He gasped, as another blow made contact. There was something different about this. Unlike his torture, this was wild. Within seconds Harry realized that Voldemort had lost control.

There was the snapping of bones as the beating continued. He tried to scream. Blood bubbled from between his lips. The pain was numbing, fading with every blow. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that this was a bad thing. His vision was fading. The last thing he saw before darkness covered him was hands grabbing the Dark Lord, pulling him off of him.

_**Thank you for reading Everyone! I hope you liked this chapter. I feel like it wasn't that good… Anyway, not much to say except review! I'm not sure what the next chapter will be, so we'll just have to see!**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_


	7. Submission

_**Hello Everyone!**_

_**With the exception of one *cough* Fanfiction Lover *cough cough* it seems last chapter went well. Fanfiction Lover: *Holds up hands* calm down. There is a reason for what happened, I assure you. raven1493: I'm taking that as a compliment, because that is exactly what I'm going for. SYLv: the chapter length is by design. I will either go frequent short chapters or longer chapters at a slower rate. It's up to my readers which one I do. So I ask you all: Which would you prefer? This chapter will be what solidifies the Dark Lord's control over Harry as well as another, more interesting meeting with the Order.**_

_**Key: **__"This means Parceltongue"_

_ This is thoughts._

**This is memories.**

_**I don't own Harry Potter!**_

_**Enjoy!**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_

**Chapter Six: Submission**

**Harry's POV**

He was swimming through the darkness, a spirit without a body.

_I should be in pain…_

The thought lit the darkness for one brief moment. He could see the way out. He pushed towards the surface.

"If he dies Severus-"

"I know my Lord, you'll kill me."

The sound of talking drew him towards the surface. Panic fluttered in his stomach. He couldn't move.

"You would do well to remember who you are speaking to."

Fear. His heart picked up speed.

"Forgive me my Lord."

Something cool against his chest.

"My Lord? If I may speak freely?"

Silence.

"Thank you my Lord. We've known each other for many years now. I've been your loyal servant for-."

"You were never loyal Severus. You went with whoever held the power."

"I have been your servant for most of my life. I've never seen you lose control like that."

He was sinking again back into the darkness.

"Who says I lost control? You should not have pulled me off of him. I could kill you for that."

"My Lord if you believe that then you would have done so already."

The darkness closed over him and…

"I don't know if you can hear me Harry."

His voice hissed in his ear.

"I'm sorry for what I had to do. She told me it was the only way."

A laugh.

"She told me that if you were taken there would be peace. Lily would skin me if she knew. I'm so sorry. You know how persuasive she can be…"

Darkness again.

"How long until he wakes?"

"I don't know my Lord. I'm keeping him under in order to let him heal. You nearly beat him to death my Lord."

A cry of pain.

"I've warned you time and time again Severus to hold your tongue. You seem to be forgetting who is master here."

"Never my Lord."

Silence.

"My Lord, about the boy's defiance…"

"Careful Severus."

"My Lord, I have a theory. Before he died, Dumbledore told me something important about him. He cannot submit to you- No please, hear me out. He is in almost every way your equal."

"And how does that pertain to his unwillingness to submit?"

"He does no fear you my Lord. He fears pain, yes, but he cannot fear you, so he cannot submit to you. As I said, I have a theory about how to get around that…"

Darkness again.

This time when he emerged from the dark recesses of unconsciousness he found that he was able to open his eyes. He hissed when the bright sunlight hit his eyes. He opened them slowly. He was lying in his bed, his room on the third floor of the mansion. His body was stiff, as if he had been lying there for a long time. He sat up slowly, expecting to pain. There was none. He knew he should be in agony, but he felt better than he had since before his capture.

He ran his fingers though his hair, and glanced at the door just as it opened.

"Good, you're awake." Severus made his way over to him, lightly tracking his wand over his ribs. "It seems you've healed remarkably well."

Harry said nothing.

"The Dark Lord wishes to see you," he handed him a bundle of clothes, "Get dressed."

Harry rose slowly, still expecting his newly healed bones to protest. He moved smoothly, however. After he had dressed in the "traditional" uniform of a Death Eater, he was led to his Lord's office. His stomach churned. He wanted to ask him what the Dark Lord's mood was. He had been out of line and there was nothing he wouldn't do to make up for his defiance.

The moment he entered the office, he collapsed to his knees. The Dark Lord said nothing, he simply continued his work.

"It seems you've recovered," he said finally, setting aside the papers.

"Yes my Lord," he whispered. He was shaking as he approached him.

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you." He hissed. The anger in his tone was sharp, making Harry whimper in anticipation of the pain to come.

"Because I can be of use to you my Lord."

"How is that when you defy me as you do?"

"Please my Lord," he risked raising his gaze to Voldemort's, "I don't know what came over me. I am loyal to you my Lord. What must I do to rectify my mistakes? I would do anything my Lord."

"Anything you say?" the Dark Lord circled him slowly.

"Yes my Lord."

"Severus has a theory about your…outburst. Severus."

Harry could sense the other man step forward.

"There's a part of you that is unable to submit to our lord. A part of your soul that cannot bow to someone you've fought so hard against."

"I don't understand? Does that mean that will continue to happen?" Harry bit his lip. He wanted nothing more than to submit to the Dark Lord. It was the only way to spare him an eternity of pain. The events of the past year were still fresh in his mind. He would not go back to that. Even if it took begging for death he could not handle it.

"Yes. You are Harry Potter. The only person to survive a killing curse not once, but twice. There is no one on earth that you can effectively submit to," Harry's heart sank, "There's a way around that however."

"What is it?" he asked immediately. _Whatever it is, I will do it…_

**Tom's POV**

"You would have to extract the part of you that permits this." Voldemort said. If Harry agreed to this, there would be no more fire in him, no emotion, or at least so few that it would not matter.

"How." The boy was determined; he seemed truly sincere in his words. He wanted to serve him. Fear was such a powerful motivator.

He stopped behind him, leaning down to hiss in his ear, "You would have to create a Horcrux that contained that part of your soul."

Harry was silent, "A Horcurx my Lord?"

"Yes. If you refuse this offer, I will find other ways to make you submit. I have all the time in the world to break you."

He was silent. His eyes closed and a look of the upmost agony crossed his features. It was a shot in the dark to offer this. He had no idea how willing his enemy was to preforming the darkest magic known to man. The silence stretched between them, and just when he was sure he would have to resort to torture, the boy spoke.

"I'll do it," he whispered.

He knelt behind the boy, his hands lightly on his shoulders. The ritual was almost completed. Blood stained them both, the traitor that was serving as sacrifice lay crumpled in the corner. He watched in mild fascination as Harry painted the last of the ancient symbols. He knew this ritual by heart, the memory of his first Horcrux was still fresh in his mind. He had slaughtered a Mudblood student after opening the Chamber of Secrets. The book he had propped on the sink as he painted the tile with her blood. He could feel the tension in Harry's back, the same tension he had possessed, fear mixed with anticipation. In the center sat the small gold chain and ring Harry had been wearing around his neck. The ritual always went better if the item was personal. For him it had been his diary, for Harry it was what he assumed to be a wedding ring.

He pressed himself closer to Harry's back, "Are you ready?" he asked softly. This was always the most delicate part. He had to have someone rip the piece of soul from his body. If it wasn't done right he would destroy him. It could be done alone, as he had done it, but this way was easier.

Harry nodded; he was trembling against the Dark Lord's chest. The stench of fear clung to him. Voldemort trailed his fingers down the back of his neck, stopping just below his shoulder blades. _"Open for me," _he hissed in Parseltougue, making Harry shiver. He gasped as the Dark Lord's fingers passed through his back. This was not the hard part, this didn't hurt. He smiled slightly as his fingers found the pulsing _thing_ that resided in every living thing. This one was so much like his own it could have been his twin. It was dark, he realized with a small shock, there were hints of light in him, but it was as if harboring his soul had tainted him. It explained so much.

Almost suddenly he took hold of that core, and pulled. Harry screamed, struggling harder than he had even in the mist of the most brutal of torture. The Dark Lord wrapped his arm around his chest, holding him still as he tore him apart from the inside. His lips formed the chant in Parseltougue, and Harry slumped forward as it came free.

Voldemort smiled triumphantly as he gazed down at the small ball of light that sat in his palm. It glowed darkly in his hand, giving off the unmistakable energy of Harry Potter. He leaned over the half conscious man, pressing it into his hand, "_Finish it." _he hissed.

Weakly Harry pressed the ball to the chain, chanting the Parceltongue Voldemort hissed in his ear. The gold glowed softly, and Dark Magic exploded outward. When it was done, Harry lay collapsed in the circle of blood, his fingers wrapped around the Dark Artifact. The chain warmed when it touched him.

_So much power…_ he thought, tucking it in his pocket.

**Harry's POV**

He felt… nothing. There was nothing left in him, only a hole where his soul should have been. The stone was cool and wet beneath his cheek. He opened his eyes. All he could see was blood. He knew the thought should have disturbed him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. In the shadows he could see the crumpled form of a woman. A traitor. He had killed her. He had felt bad about it before, but now… He could understand why the Dark Lord had done this. It was liberating.

He moved as if through water, pushing himself to his feet. Arms wrapped around him from behind, "My Lord." Serine.

"How do you feel?" The Dark Lord murmured against his ear.

"I don't my Lord." He smiled. For the first time in his life, he had no cares. Had he known that losing his soul would do this to him he would have done it years ago.

"Perfect." The Dark Lord's hands trailed down his chest, "Bring him in," he called.

The door creaked open, reveling a hooded man supported by two Death Eaters. The Dark Lord stood, pulling Harry with him.

He paced around the kneeling figure. The Dark Lord stopped behind him, smiling as he looked into Harry's eyes. He rested his hand on top of the man's head, ripping the hood off with a flourish.

Seamus Finnigan.

"Harry?" Seamus cried. Last Harry had seen of him had been acting as commander in one of their- _The Order's_ he reminded himself sharply- camps in France. He had fought beside Harry in one of the many battles there. They had saved each other's lives in the heat of battle. Seamus turned out to be an excellent warrior. But now, he looked withered, as if he had been here a while. The camp must have been taken some time ago.

Harry said nothing. His face expression was perfectly blank. _I should care but…I can't…_

Voldemort passed Harry a small jeweled dagger, "Kill him," he said simply.

Harry didn't hesitate, he plunged the dagger deep into his chest before he even had a chance to register what was being said. Only an hour before he would have defied his Lord. He would have taken whatever punishment he would have been given, rather than kill a friend. But now, he was empty of defiance, empty of pride, and he could remember the pain he had gone through. He feared it, and there was no reason for him to defy Lord Voldemort.

"Yes," the Dark Lord hissed, "You are ready."

**Tom's POV**

He sat at one end of the long table, directly across from the Order's head. He remembered her from the Battle for Hogwarts. A very powerful witch and formidable foe. Stretched along the rest of the table was her "Council" as they called themselves. The two friends of Harry's, another redhead, a soft looking pureblood witch, the scared boy-now-man that had openly defied him during the first battle, and a slim blonde witch who sat staring into space. They looked like nothing, but he had learned never to underestimate his enemies. Every one of them had lived this long, so they had to be powerful.

He had only brought Harry to this "negotiation." It was all he needed. The boy knelt submissively at his feet, his hands in his lap, his head respectively down. He was clothed this time in a rich shirt of silk and soft cotton pants. His feet were bare, per request, and he had donned every weapon he had come to him with: two guns, a total of five blades, and a wand. He looked out of place amongst the shabby state of Order's meeting room. Everything was rundown, worn by over use.

Voldemort absently reached down to stroke the boy's hair. He got no reaction, not that he was expecting one. He made note at the immediate rise in tension among the Order. The redhead younger redhead was all but restrained by the pretty Mudblood. There was hardness in them. It was as if his careless words had sparked something in them.

He would not be the first to speak. They had called this meeting, so it would be they that named the purpose. He continued to stroke his hair, wrapping the long coil of braid around his fist. It was softer than he thought possible. The boy whimpered softly, closing his eyes.

The head cleared her throat, "Sir," she paused, unsure if that was the right way to address him, "We have discussed your demand that we lay down our arms and surrender in great lengths. There has been much opposition to your request."

"It is not a request. It is a demand. You will disband your rebellion, or you will be destroyed."

"Never!" this came from the elder redhead. His face was pulled into a mask of pure hatred, "We will never bow down to you."

Voldemort laughed softly, "Even if your hero has?"

"He hasn't!" The defiant one shouted, "He told us not to give in!"

"Did he? Harry? Is there anything you'd like to say to that?" The boy flinched, letting out a small whimper.

"Yes my Lord," he lifted his head to look at them all. "I was wrong," he knew the boy didn't believe this, not truly. The fear in his eyes was a charade. He had been commanded to act as if afraid. "You should give in. He…he will kill you if you don't," his voice trembled on cue. "My Lord please…"

"What did you do to him," this was the younger redhead again.

"Ronald," the head hissed.

"No damn it. He's making him say that. This isn't Harry, it can't be. Harry would never side with the man who killed his parents. He would ide first."

"That's where you're wrong," the Dark Lord, "He has decided that it would be less… painful to side with me… He has yet to ask me to kill him. He screamed and fought, but he never begged to die. In fact he seemed to like it when I fucked him."

The redhead moved suddenly. He drew his wand, launching across the table at the Dark Lord. Harry's strike was that of a snake. He tackled him onto the table. He straddled his waist, a knife pressed to his throat with one hand and the other holding his head to the side by his hair. Harry's eyes were empty of all emotion, letting the "Council" see that he could and would kill his former friend and feel nothing.

"Kill him," Voldemort said offhandedly. He wasn't watching his pet, but instead watched the head. Her eyes widened as Harry started to draw the blade across his throat. "Stop." Harry stopped immediately. "Return." Again he obeyed without question. "I think I've made my point." He smiled triumphantly. They saw the control he had over their Golden Boy. He was he perfectly little pet. He stood, motioning for Harry to rise with him, "You refuse my mercy, very well. I gave you a chance to redeem yourselves. For every man and woman that falls in the coming battles, know that it is your head that their blood stains."

Before they could react, he grabbed Harry's arm. In a demonstration of his power, he dropped the wards around the room, apparating back to the manor. He turned to his pet the moment his feet touched the ground, "You did well," he praised. "You played your part perfectly."

He bowed, "Thank you my Lord."

"We've shaken them, but they are far from breaking. You are dismissed, return to me in the morning and we will discuss your future here."

He bowed once more and left.

Everything was going perfectly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring on its chain. Inside contained all of the defiant emotions in his pet, anything that would cause him to refuse his Master. Without this part of him, he would be the perfect Death Eater. Emotion had always held him back, preventing him from reaching his full potential, today had proven that. Dumbledore had fed that emotion, keeping him a slave to his humanity. Without it, he could be truly Voldemort's equal.

_**Thank you for reading Everyone! I hope you liked this. I'm sorry for the wait; I was taking a few days for myself. Please be kind and CONSTRUCTIVE on your reviews, anything other than that is just being a douche. The next chapter is yet to be decided, I haven't a clue where I want to take it. I'll get you a chapter as soon as I can. I love most of you!**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_

_**PS: S. W. Jr: because I don't feel like adding this into my beginning author's note, I'll answer you here. I hardly spoiled anything, I stated previously that there would be actual romance between them, I figured that was self-explanatory. I can understand what you mean by dull… It goes hand in hand with the short chapters; it would take an eternity to progress the story if I took the time to describe everything I saw in my head. Disturbing, scary, and full of misery is what I was going for, so thank you for noticing. If you have anything constructive to say, please review again. If you don't, then please say nothing. If you do not like this story do not read it. Thank you!**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_


	8. Welcome

_**Hello Everyone!**_

_**So you liked last chapter? Good because there's more coming. Guava2: Patience, there's more intimacy coming this chapter. Kinda. You'll see ;-). FanFiction Lover: your violence is inspiring, but… Snape is not going to die; at least I don't think he is. I may kill him off, I'm not sure yet. raven1493: thank you for pointing that out, I'll get it changed as soon as I can. I'm glad I've gotten your attention. If you normally skip the torture, then I must be doing something right! Anyway this chapter is going to be the beginning of Harry's life as a member of Voldemort's army. WARNING: this chapter contains homosexual/degrading sexual acts. If you don't like, don't read. This is your only warning.**_

_**I don't own Harry Potter!**_

_**Enjoy!**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_

**Chapter Seven: Welcome**

**Harry's POV**

For the first time since he had emerged from the pits of hell, Harry woke alone. Always before, Severus or Lucius had roused him the moment the sun breached the line of trees outside his window. This time however, he woke when he damn well pleased, which granted wasn't any later. In fact, the sky was still dark, with the faintest hints of purple, and the sun was all but a distant memory. Harry stood at this window, naked, watching the sky slowly lighten. He remembered vaguely that he had done this with Ginny on several occasions, but where there should have been pain at the thought of his deceased wife, he felt nothing.

_I could get used to this…_ He would have cried before, but now it seemed as if he had no tears, no nothing actually.

He made his way to the private bathroom, finding it surprisingly modern and… muggle. There was a pool sized bath in the center of the room, with a shower big enough for an orgy along the east wall. The west wall was taken up by a wall of mirrors, and a sink and counters along the north. There was a door beside the sinks that led to the toilet. When he investigated the drawers he found muggle toiletries in each and soft linin in a separate closet. He frowned slightly, but found he didn't care. Despite everything, muggles had it right in some things.

His reflection in the mirror caught his eyes. He was scarred; it looked as if someone had used his chest as a knife sharpener. There were almost artful markings across his chest swirls and slashes creating a sort of pattern. The ones on his arms and legs were less careful, straight up and down. On his wrists, stretching from forearm to palm was the evidence of his attempt at suicide. He traced the one on his right arm, shivering at the memory. He had been desperate, but that was no more. He turned to his side, observing the words on his back. "Harry Potter, the Chosen One," was spelled out across his shoulder blades. He was almost back to his normal weight, without the layer of muscle that he had developed over the years of war. He was almost disappointed. He wasn't vain, but he had enjoyed the muscle he had acquired, it made him look much less like the child that had walked out of the Dursely's six years ago.

He sighed deeply. He would have to do something about that. Turning away from the mirror, he went to the shower. He turned the water as hot as it would go, sighing in content as it stung his skin. He let the water wash over him for as long as he dared before scrubbing his body. He washed his hair carefully, using half a bottle of muggle shampoo and conditioner respectively. With his skin stinging he climbed out an hour later, wrapping a towel around his waist as he did. He dressed as he had for the past several weeks, strapping his weapons into place. When he felt he was ready he stepped out of the room and went in search of the Dark Lord.

He hadn't bothered to check the time; it was early, and the sun was just starting to rise, so he was assuming it was about six in the morning. He walked the familiar path to his office, for the first time taking in the extravagance of the Malfoy manor. The last time he had been here he had been too worried about getting he and his friends out alive to bother with the surroundings, and this time he had been preoccupied with not getting himself tortured to care. The place was actually quite lovely. All hardwood floors and antique furnishings throughout the house, giving it an old world feel. The walls of this floor were crimson, setting off the colorful tapestries and brass vases that lined the walls. It was broken by doors every few feet, all of which were bedrooms. The floor below was done in dark green, and held the most extravagant library he had ever seen. The first floor was meeting rooms, impromptu offices, and other such business, while the ground floor held the kitchen, sitting rooms (six, half of which held the most modern muggle technology), dining rooms (three in all), a full ballroom, and the basement was where the real business took place. The grounds were vast, Harry knew that much, but he had yet to explore them.

He made his way down to the first floor by way of the grand staircase. He stood outside it for several seconds, debating if he should knock or not, when a voice came from within, "Come in Harry."

He pushed open the double doors stepping into the room. Like the rest of the house it had only the nicest furniture, but for the first time he realized it was all but empty. A bookshelf, a desk, a chair, and a widow were all it had. He hesitated in the doorway.

"Sit," Voldemort said, not looking up from the papers he was examining. As Harry neared, he could see that it was war plans. They sat in silence, with only the ruffling of paper to fill the silence.

"My Lord," Harry said finally, "You asked to see me?"

"I did." That was it, no explanation.

"About what my Lord?" he asked finally. He hoped that he had been telling the truth in his ability to speak freely.

"I have yet to decide what to do with you," he responded absently.

"My Lord?"

"You do understand you are a prisoner here Harry? Correct?" he set aside the papers, and looked intently at him.

"I am loyal to you my Lord, but yes I understand."

"Good, then that means you understand that you are not to leave beyond the wards on these grounds, if you do I will know."

"Of course my Lord."

"You are free to go anywhere within the wards, and you may do almost anything you wish. My only demand at this time is that you come to all meetings I have, be it with my inner circle or with a perspective recruit. You will be by my side whenever I need you. Is that understood?"

Harry shivered at the piercing gaze the Dark Lord gave him, "Yes, my Lord."

"My Lord?" the door cracked open, "There is a group of people here to see you. They say they're from the Order. They wish to join you my Lord?" his voice rose at the end, making it a question.

The Dark Lord nodded, a smile pulling at his lips, "And so it begins." He stood, and motioned for Harry to follow. They were led to a conference room, containing a long wooden table and chairs, all of the chairs were full, save for the one at the head, on a raised platform. There were fifty in the room, none of which had a weapon other than a wand on their person. Of those, ten looked jumpy and likely to freeze if it came to a fight, twenty looked ready to piss themselves at the sight of the Dark Lord, and another fifteen were Death Eaters that stood along the walls; ready to act as their master commanded. That left a measly five from the Order that looked as if they would cause trouble if the chance arose.

Harry noted this all in the three seconds it took for the doors to open, and for him to take his position at the Dark Lord's feet. He was little more than a machine now. Eliminating his emotions had all but taken his humanity. This is what it was like when he was in battle, calm, and ruthless.

He didn't have to be asked to kneel at his feet. He knew his role.

The Dark Lord said nothing, his gaze moving over the dirty group of soldiers in front of him. Harry recognized some of them; they were no one important. They were the ones who had all but kissed his feet when he had been giving a speech as a funeral or preparing them to go into battle. It made sense that they would be the first to come once he had, however unwillingly, switched sides. He was a god to them, and they would go where he did.

No sooner than the thought crossed his mind, did the Dark Lord's fingers curl into his hair. _"Careful Harry," _he hissed _"Those are quite dangerous thoughts. Perhaps I should show them what has become of their…god was it."_

"_Forgive me my Lord," _he responded, mirroring his master's Parceltongue.

The Dark Lord only smiled, continuing the weave his fingers in and out of his hair, "To what do I own this pleasure?" he asked finally.

"Well…Sir, I-We, I mean, would like to join your army," it was one of the five that spoke. She came forward slightly.

"Why? Are you unhappy with your Order? If memory serves, everyone refused to come to me when I offered last."

"Well…Sir. When Harry Potter said that he was wrong, we knew he was right…" she offered.

"Ah yes, Harry Potter," his fingers tightened suddenly, guiding his head to his crotch, "The savior of the wizarding world." His pressed Harry's face more firmly against his crotch, letting him feel the hardness there.

Harry didn't struggle, not that he could have if he had wanted. He had learned just to accept what was, it was far less painful.

"_Suck," _the Dark Lord hissed, binding Harry's hands behind his back with a flick of his wand.

Harry frowned slightly. This was going to be difficult. Carefully he took the zipper in his teeth. He struggled with it before clumsily sliding it down. With that done he nudged his pants open with his chin, struggling to free the Dark Lord's cock from his pants. It was degrading, more so than anything he had done, but that was the point. He understood his thinking. They needed to see him beaten, broken, no more than a slave to Lord Voldemort. When he was finally free, Harry hesitated only for a moment; he had never done this before. The fingers tightened in his hair, making him whimper, "Please my Lord," he whispered. The shame that burned in his cheeks was not an act.

"_Don't make me tell you again, Harry," _He hissed.

Harry closed his eyes and took the Dark Lord into his mouth. He felt him stiffen slightly, but that was the only reaction he gave.

"If I do allow you to join me, what could you possibly bring to the table?" his voice was smooth, as if Harry were not sucking his cock. There was shock and discomfort emitting from the former Order members.

"Well…" the woman tried to speak and failed. She looked down at Harry as he took more of his master into his mouth, almost to the point of gagging. "Well…my…my Lord, we each have been trained in…"

Harry tuned them out; focusing on the order he had been given. He pulled back slightly, going back to suck on his head. He ran his tongue around the head, and was pleased when he felt the Dark Lord stiffen again. Experimentally, he slid his head lower, taking more of his in his mouth. The Dark Lord's hand pressed to the back of his head, forcing him lower. He gaged, but the Dark Lord forced him lower, until he took every inch of him in. After he let up, the Dark Lord guided his head up and down, releasing him when he found the rhythm.

The meeting continued, and to Harry's dismay, the Dark Lord seemed unaffected. The potential Death Eaters watched in growing discomfort, but the Dark Lord acted as if there was nothing wrong. Harry wanted him to. To his surprise, he wanted to be the one that made Lord Voldemort lose it. He doubled his efforts, using his tongue to trace the veins along his shaft. His fingers tightened suddenly in his hair, and his breathing hitched. There was the softest gasp as the Dark Lord stilled; filling Harry's mouth was his seed. He gaged, and almost spit it out.

"_Swallow," _Voldemort hissed softly, with none of his usual malice.

Harry did as he was told, shifting his weight so that he was again facing the room. The fingers were still in his hair, gentler now, "You have made a valuable argument Miss Jones. Men, take them down to the basement for their testing."

Harry flinched, "Is that necessary my Lord?" he asked softly as they were ushered out.

"Yes it is. The rest of you are dismissed." He waited until they were alone before he spoke again. "Interesting," he murmured in Harry's ear, "Very interesting. Had I known what you were capable of with that mouth, I would have put it to use a long time ago." He gripped his hair suddenly, jerking his head back so that Harry was looking at him. "I've discovered something new about you Mister Potter," he hissed, "Perhaps I've just discovered your role here," his tongue lightly trailed down his neck, making him shiver. "I'll be in touch," he vowed. "You are dismissed."

Harry nodded once, "As you wish my Lord." He stood without another word. He had learned the hard way that when the Dark Lord commanded you listened. No questions asked.

The sun was at its highest point when he finally made his way to the massive back year (if it could be called that). He had spent hours wondering the house, or more specifically the library after the Dark Lord had released him. He had nothing better to do, so he settled on reading. The library, however, was to stuffy, despite consisting of an entire floor, so he had decided to take his book outside. It was a beautiful day, the sun was warm, but not too hot, the wind was soft and cool. It seemed too beautiful considering where he was. Harry settled under a tree, just outside of the sand pit that served as a sort of training grounds. It was surrounded by soldiers on the far side, and two men dueled with wands in the center. Farther down there were others dueling or practicing individually. There were about a hundred men and women here, and not a one knew anything except for magic.

He had come out here with the intent of reading, but this was far more interesting. One of the men, the taller one, sent a spell at the other with lightning precision. The second knew it was coming, and attempted to throw up a shield, but was to slow. Harry smirked as he collapsed to the ground, boils erupting across his skin. He was healed and the battle commenced. Neither moved much, he noted as they sent spell after spell. They didn't try and dodge, only block. It was a very poor way to fight. He couldn't understand how the Dark Lord was winning. He had fewer numbers, and no one truly fought, except for himself. He had perfected the art of using magic in conjunction with "muggle fighting." There were only two people that he knew of that had even bothered to try and do so, and both still relied heavily on their wand. He snorted loudly as the second man was dropped for the fourth time in a row.

It drew his attention and the short wizard rose, his eyes alive with misplaced fury, "You think you can do any fucking better?" he challenged, obviously not knowing who he was talking to.

"I know I could," Harry responded, turning to his book because he knew it would piss him off.

"Then fucking prove it," he snarled.

Harry smirked, and set aside the book. He could use a bit of exercise. Only when he stepped into the sand did he realize he had not fought anyone in over a year. He knew he had to be rusty. He surveyed his opponent, the better of the two wizards. A man younger than him, hardly out of boyhood it seemed. His hair was blonde, not the white blonde of a Malfoy, but a darker honey color. His eyes were green, and held equal parts cockiness and amusement. He wore a simple black robe, and the uniform of a Death Eater. There was, however no mark on his wrist so he was not Inner circle. Harry could see generous amounts of muscle under his clothes. In short, he was… attractive. Harry hardly dared to think the word, his mind immediately turning to his master. He would surly kill him if he knew he was thinking of anyone but him.

"William Pence," the youth stated, offering Harry his hand. His grip was firm and sure.

Harry only nodded, not offering his name. The trainer, a newer member of the Inner circle by the name of Shean Grey stepped between them.

"You ever been in a duel?" he snapped, eyeing Harry.

He smiled bitterly, "A few."

"You got a name?" the man grunted.

"Harry Potter," he said simply.

There was a collective inhalation of breath from the trainees.

"Well Mister Potter, you don't look like much," William pointed out, eyeing him from head to toe.

"Neither do you Mister Pence." His voice was cool, reveling nothing.

"What's the hold up?" the short wizard demanded from the side of the pit.

The trainer nodded at them both, "In position." He snapped.

Harry moved to his side, standing loosely with his hands ready at his sides. He heard the crowd of trainees snicker when he made no move to draw his wand. William stood on his end, wand pointed and ready. The moment Grey called start, Harry was moving.

Move.

He was on him before he even had time to get off a single spell.

Strike.

He rode him to the ground, drawing a blade before the boy had a chance to react.

Wait.

Harry straddled him, pinning his legs with his, knocking his wand from his hand, and pressing the blade to his throat.

This was all done in the matter of seconds.

Silence.

A stunned silence settled around the crowd.

"How?" the boy under him gasped. He strained against the blade. His eyes were wide with fear and awe.

Harry said nothing, he simply climbed off of him. _They need to be taught._ He thought idly. Without thinking he drew a second blade and tossed it to him. The hilt bounced off of his hand and it landed in his lap.

"Next time you'll catch it," he said softly. "On your feet. There are better things to learn than spells."

The stunned boy stood, and took his position opposite of Harry. The rest watched as they faced off. "Now try and hit me."

The boy William struck wildly, with no form or skill. Harry deflected it easily, knocking him off balance, and cracking the hilt of his blade off the back of his head as he fell. "Again," Harry snapped. There was an audience gathering.

Again the boy attacked, swinging wildly. Harry dodged smoothly, hitting him with the hilt or flat of his blade whenever he grew bored of dodging, always with the command of "Again" when he fell. He kept the movements simple, always the same.

Slowly the boy picked up on the pattern. His attacks mimicked Harrys as the fight became more structured. Harry smiled slightly as he copied the moves. _He's good… I have all I need to know…_ He struck like lightning.

He grabbed his wrist, deflecting his attack with his free hand, while slashing with his blade. He had the boy on the ground pinned. Both of them were sweating, breathing hard as Harry straddled him, gazing into each other's eyes. Harry felt a tingle in his stomach, a spark of something. Attraction perhaps? He didn't know, didn't care. He climbed off him, and looked at the crowed that had gathered. They seemed impressed. With a small bow, he slid the weapon's back into place, and wordlessly left the training field behind.

_**Thank you for reading Everyone. I feel like the last part was kinda random, but oh well, what's done is done. I'm going to be developing this a bit more in the next chapter. There's going to be a confrontation between Harry and the trainer I think. Anyway, be nice in your comments. **_

_**~Angelia Reader**_


	9. Settling In

_**Hello Everyone!**_

_**I guess last chapter was…ok? Idk, I love this story, and I want to get to the ideas that I have in my head. raven1493: Once again you have hit exactly what I'm going for. That's the whole point of my version of Lord Voldemort. He'll cause someone enough pain to destroy them, and build the bases for their loyalty, and then ensures it with kindness. I'm trying to show (as you will soon realize) that Voldemort is not cruel, he's willing to do what it takes to get what he wants, and will do whatever it takes to get what he wants, but he is not cruel. FanFiction Lover: More action on the way, don't worry. Also no I haven't decided what to do about Severus, he may or may not die, and Harry and William…well… you'll see Love, you'll see. Anyway this chapter is going to be more with Harry and the Dark Lord, more with Harry training, and William… I have big big plans for him… That being said: WARNING: There will be sex (actual sex this time) and… Well you know the drill…**_

_**I don't own Harry Potter.**_

_**Enjoy!**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_

**Chapter Eight: Settling In**

**Harry's POV**

The days that followed the same pattern**. **He woke early, showered, dressed, and made his way to the Dark Lord. He would then spend several hours by his side, sometimes kneeling, sometimes standing just behind his right shoulder, a trophy it seemed. _Look what I have done_ his presence seemed to say _Look I have tamed the great Harry Potter. _The meetings with defectors of the light's army were almost steady. It seemed the news of his change of heart had spread like wildfire. Those that wished to follow his example came in floods. While most were genuine, a handful was assassins had made an appearance. More times than he could count in past week did he have to defend his Master, sinking a blade or a bullet or firing a spell into the individual before they could so much as take a step forward.

His mornings with the Dark Lord were followed by an afternoon with the soldiers in training. After his first day with William, a dozen more had come forward, wishing to challenge him and learn what he had to teach. Some scoffed at his "muggle" techniques right until the point where he proved he could kill any one of them faster than they could fire off a spell. Slowly but surely he was getting back to his post-capture fitness. His body hardened as muscle took form. He had tried to make a point of staying away from the tempting William. He remembered the spark of desire that had shimmered in his stomach, and he knew it would anger the Dark Lord if he showed interest. He had never felt this way about anyone, however. He had loved his wife with every fiber of his being, but he could admit, if only to himself, that he had harbored no attraction for her. It was almost a shock to realize it, but he had not been physically attracted to Ginny.

Sighing inwardly, Harry straightened his back as the doors to the conference room opened. He was standing today, his hands clasped behind his back, his head high, not proud, but attentive, and ready to serve his master. It was a meeting of the Inner Circle. There were twenty of them in all. All of them powerful, all of them ruthless, most of them loyal. Harry watched them file in, their eyes lingering on him just long enough to not offend the Dark Lord. They bowed as one when they took their places behind their seats. The Dark Lord nodded once, and they all sat as one.

"My Lord," Severus immediately began, "I have gotten word from our spy in the Order's southern French camp. She says that they are preparing to march on one of the small camps in the area. She says she is confident they will take it if we do not send reinforcements."

The Dark Lord was silent, turning his gaze to another.

"I have confirmed it my Lord, the Order is planning an attack. They are waiting on word from their head before moving."

The Dark Lord nodded once, "Mister Potter?" Harry straightened, coming forward so that he stood just beside his master.

"Yes my Lord?"

"What would your recommendation be? As a former Order leader, what are your thoughts on these rebels?"

"My Lord, the group in question is among those that I myself trained. They are skilled in the art of killing, with both magic and blades. There are roughly fifty gunmen that I know of, perhaps more if things have changed in the past year. They are a small camp, led by a Mister Robert Brent he's a good man, but an ineffective leader. His men will follow him, but only because they believe in their cause. They will attack from the north because that is where your camp is weak, if you are unprepared, they will take it. They will not kill anyone they don't have to; they will not take any prisoners."

"And how exactly would you know?" this came from Shean Grey. "Are you by any chance a tactical expert?" he snapped.

"No, I am only a soldier," Harry said simply. "But I know people. I know how they work, and these people I know well. I trained them after all."

"Did you blatantly interrupt someone else's training to teach your muggle tactics? I'm sure it couldn't be avoided. You are a Half-blood, correct?" His tone was light, as he insulted him.

"Yes, I am actually," Harry's tone was just as light, thinly masking the anger that boiled within him. "And as for my tactics, I am positive that I could kill you in fifty different ways before you could even react." Harry gritted his teeth. It took everything he had not to attack the man. Anger ripped through him. It was the first emotion he had felt in weeks, and it was…wonderful.

"Harry? What is he referring to?" the Dark Lord asked softly, the faintest threads of anger in his voice.

"Mister Potter has seen it fit to interrupt my training of the newest recruits in order to teach them how to swing a dagger," Grey said coldly.

"My Lord. They need to be taught how to properly fight. Your soldiers are ruthless, but that is not enough. The tides of the war are changing because they do not have the skills to fight."

"We are winning this war Mister Potter! Or are you still rooting for your precious light?" Grey snarled, glaring at him.

"I am loyal to my master, and the reason why I am the single most accomplished killer in either army save for the Dark Lord himself is because I know how to truly fight."

"Just because you can beat untrained men, does not mean you actually hold any merit when it comes to a real battle."

"And do tell, how many men have you killed?" the anger was exhilarating, a splash of color in an otherwise blank existence. "I have killed hundreds, perhaps thousands over the past five years, most without the use of my wand."

"Oh really? If you are as good as you claim, you wouldn't be here right now. I wouldn't have had the pleasure of helping in your breaking." The man smirked, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"_My Lord."_ Harry hissed, his eyes shone with hatred.

"_Do as you wish."_

Harry smiled grimly, "I am better than I think I am, and if you don't believe me," Harry stepped back, into the shadows. He released just enough magic to use the shadows to "jump" from one spot to the next in the blink of an eye. He stepped behind Grey, lightly placing his hands on his shoulders, "I could have snapped your neck, slit your throat, and left you for dead before you had even realized I had moved."

The man tensed, no one except the Dark Lord had seen him move, and they all looked at him with mixed awe and shock. Grey stood abruptly, knocking the chair over. Harry stepped back just enough to move, sending a controlled kick to his side, just enough to let him feel his strength. He pulled his wand, and Harry smirked, sweeping forward and knocking it from his hand. He drew a blade with one hand, capturing Grey's wrist with the other. He pressed him back, so that his top half was lying on the table, Harry's knee pressed to his crotch, and the dagger against his throat.

It was exhilarating, the raw energy and emotion that coursed through him. Even before, he had never felt like this, never experienced anything this strong. _It's a side effect of losing yourself…_ the Dark Lord whispered in his mind. Out loud he said, "Please don't kill my training expert," he sounded bored, with a hit of amusement and something Harry couldn't identify.

"Yes my Lord," Harry let him go, sheathing the blade as he made his way back to the head of the table.

"You fucking bastard," Grey hissed.

"That's enough Shean." The Dark Lord gave him a chilling look, and he sat back down, defeated.

"My Lord," Harry began softly, "With your permeation, I'd like to take over the task of training your army. I'm sure I have proven that my methods are more effective."

"My Lord, this is ridiculous. He is a child, and not fit to teach anyone. He would only be weakening your army if he-"

"It seems I just took care of you quiet well," he interrupted.

"Enough!" the Dark Lord commanded, and both of them immediately backed down. "You are a competent warrior Harry, but that does not mean you are capable of teaching better than Mister Grey. After all, Shean is the best trainer I've found," he paused, smiling slightly.

"How can I prove myself to you my Lord?" Harry persisted. He needed something to keep him busy.

"Fifty men, train them, and put them up against fifty of Shean's choosing in a month's time. Winner takes over." His tone left no room for argument. "Moving on."

**Tom's POV**

The meeting passed in a haze as it always did. He ignored most of it, there was nothing his Death Eaters could tell him that he didn't already know. He let them talk, his mind wandering to the confrontation between his trainer, and his warrior. He doubted he had ever seen anyone so graceful, so powerful, or so fucking sexy, as watching Harry pin the man to the table, preparing to kill. He truly was a beautiful man; it made the Dark Lord desire to bend him over the table right then and there, and take him fast and hard. He couldn't however, the only time he would expose something that was his like that was for shock value. His Death Eaters already knew what he was capable of; he had no reason to show his toy off to them.

The moment he dismissed them, he turned to Harry. As always, his gaze was empty. Calm and distant. It was part of missing his emotions. The only time he would feel anything is if the emotion or experience was strong enough. The Dark Lord cocked his head to the side, watching him. He stood obediently to the right of his chair, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. He stood, absently circling the boy and gained no reaction. He stopped behind him, lightly trailing his fingers through his braid. He wrapped it around his fist, pulling slightly until Harry stood pressed to his chest.

Using his hair, he jerked his head to the side, exposing his throat. Harry moaned softly, enjoying the tug on his hair. His -breath caught in his throat when the Dark Lord lowered his lips to his throat, starting just behind his ear and moving down. His pet let out a small sigh of content that ended in a moan when his teeth sank just below his pulse. He bit down just hard enough to mark him, without drawing blood. With his free hand, he reached down to cup Harry through the fabric of his pants. He was already hard.

"My Lord," he gasped, pressing himself more firmly against the Dark Lord's hand. He hardened farther at his touch.

"Do you want me to stop?" Voldemort teased, squeezing him hard suddenly, making him moan loudly before removing his hands.

"My Lord!" Harry begged. He started to reach back to touch him, but he stopped him without thinking about it.

"No touching," he murmured in his ear. The Dark Lord led him slowly forward, until Harry was bent over the long table, his cheek pressed to the cool wood. He ran his hands up his sides, guiding his arms upward until they were clasped above his head in one of Voldemort's hands. Harry strained only slightly against his hold, before relaxing. Again with his free hand, he went back to stroking him, pressing his own erection against his ass as he did. He continued to toy with him until he was moaning, and thrusting against his hand.

One handed, the Dark Lord unbuttoned his pants, shoving them down his legs before attending to Harry's pants. He bound Harry's hands in place with magic, running his hands up his bare ass before slowly sliding a single finger into him. Harry gasped, squirming in discomfort and the Dark Lord paused. This was not like before. He was not going to rape him. If Harry said stop, he would have to stop. He moved his finger slowly when Harry said nothing, curling it so that it pressed against his prostate. Harry moaned loudly, his attempts to press against his finger stopped by the magical bonds. After a moment, the Dark Lord added another finger, moving them to open him up, preparing him for penetration.

When he was sure he was read, he removed his fingers, and took hold of Harry's hips. Very slowly he eased himself into his pet, stopping when he gasped and cried out in pain. He let him grow accustomed to the feel of him before pushing more of himself into his ass. He moaned softly. He was so tight. Not the virgin he had been when he had first taken him, but close. The Dark Lord paused again for only a moment, before setting a slow rhythm. He trailed one hand down his hip, gripping his cock, and pumping it in time with his thrusts. The moans that were emitting from his lover encouraged him, and he thrust faster.

**Harry's POV**

"My Lord," Harry moaned, already close. He strained against the bonds, as he did something particularly crafted with his hand, sending a wave of pleasure through him. It hadn't been like this before. Before there had only been pain, only agony, but now… Harry moaned loudly, thrusting against his master's hand. He felt his lips on his throat again; kissing and sucking were he had bitten before. It would mark, but at the moment he couldn't bring himself to care.

His mind was a haze of pleasure. Like the anger before it lit up his world, giving him something to feel, rather than the cold existence that losing his soul had given him. He could feel the Dark Lord pressing deliberately against his prostate, making him writhe in pleasure. When he came, it was sudden, almost unexpected. A low scream pulled from his lips as his seed coated the Dark Lord's hand. He felt him cum only seconds after he had, with a small moan. Familiar warmth filled his lower half and the Dark Lord pressed his face against the back of his neck. Harry was panting, but he seemed remotely unfazed. Anyone else would have seen that as a blow to their ego, but as the last bit of pleasure faded from his system and he sank back into oblivion he didn't care. The Dark Lord had enjoyed it, whether he showed it or not.

He slowly pulled out of him, making him wince slightly at the pain. The bonds were released, and he stood, pulling up his pants as the Dark Lord preformed a quick cleaning spell on them both. There should have been awkwardness, but it was more of an understanding between them. They were both broken, both emotionless. He understood just as the Dark Lord did that there was nothing emotional in what they had just done. It was sex, nothing more, nothing less.

"My Lord," Harry said with a small bow, "If I may, I must select my champions."

The Dark Lord nodded once, turning away, "Return to my office this evening. My spies will be reporting soon."

"As you wish my Lord," he said, leaving without another word.

For the hundredth time he dodged a clumsy attack from one of his men. For the hundredth time he knocked the blade from his hand, and sent him sprawling into the sand.

"Again," he snapped, stepping back and allowing the man to get up. He was twice Harry's senior, but he had yet to land a single blow. He hadn't gotten to pick anyone for his fifty. No one save for the men and women that had willingly come to him wanted anything to do with this. They all thought it was a joke. To fight without magic was ludicrous. He had gotten the exact number he needed, with a little bit of persuasion. Among them was William, the boy he had battled the first time. Harry was doing his best to ignore him. There was no point in getting punished over a great smile and a nice ass, and Merlin did he have a nice ass.

"How the hell am I supposed to hit you if you don't stand still," the man snarled as he was again taken down, "Why couldn't I just stun you?"

"If someone took your wand away from you what would you do?" he asked simply, addressing all of them. "If your wand was snapped, your hands were bound behind your back and you were being led to the headsman, what would you do?"

There was silence. "Knowing how to use more than magic is an advantage that no one else has. 99% of the people you will come up against in this war will not know how to do what I can teach you. It could determine if you live or die. Now," he tossed the blade to the man, "hit me."

There was a bout of laughter as the man once again he was lying on the ground. The man, his face red with embarrassment, got up and attacked blindly, swinging out of anger, with even less precision than he had used before. Harry dodged each attack, grabbing his wrist and pinning it behind his back. He had yet to draw a weapon; there was no need with someone so unskilled.

"What has he done wrong?" he asked calmly, letting him go and pushing him gently towards the others. There was shuffling and a halfhearted answer that he had tried to attack him, but Harry only shook his head, "First lesson, never get angry. Anger clouds your judgment and gives your opponent the upper hand." He surveyed the group, picking one at random. "Next."

He managed to get through each of them, assessing their ability, and determining how much they still needed to learn. All of them, that is, except for the alluring William. He all but ignored him, focusing on the rest of his students. By the time they were released, it was dark, and the day had melted into cool twilight. He watched as they all went back to the manor, sporting new bruises and sore muscles. All but one.

William stepped forward just as he stepped out of the sandpit, "Sir," he said, as they had all taken to calling him that. "I can't help but feel like you're avoiding me." His eyes sparkled with knowledge, he knew that he was, and he likely knew why.

"I'm not," he lied easily, without much thought to it.

"Oh? Then perhaps I could get a private lesson?" he offered, "I didn't get a chance to spar with you, and I'd like to get a chance prove myself." He stepped closer so that he was standing only inches from Harry. The boy reached out and trailed his fingers down his cheek.

Harry bit his lip, but didn't step back. A wave of arousal coursed through his blood. The spark in the boy's eyes told him that he knew what he was doing to him. "No," Harry said simply. He turned away from the tempting man, and walked back to the house without another word. He had to get away from him before he did something he regretted.

"Harry," a soft familiar voice reached his ears.

"My Lord," he responded, stopping just outside the door. He didn't turn to the shadows where his master was.

"I am very impressed. I decided to see how your teaching was going, it seems you have your work cut out for you," he hissed, letting him know that he had seen the whole thing.

"It would seem so," Harry said softly, his heart pounding in his chest. He flinched when the Dark Lord's fingers came to rest on his shoulders. He hadn't felt him behind him.

"It would seem that you have quite an interesting group," his tone was casual.

"I do my Lord."

"I would hope that you can trust them all. It would be unfortunate if you had to kill one of them because they betrayed me. I would hate for something to happen to a promising warrior, because of betrayal." His fingers tightened his voice dropping to a hiss. The warning was clear.

"You have no reason to worry my lord. I said before, I am loyal to you and only you." He whispered.

"Keep it that way," the Dark Lord hissed.

_**Thank you for reading Everyone. So what did you think? Tell me please! I'm not sure what the next chapter will be except it will have more on William and Harry. How will Harry deal with his attraction to the boy? Wait and see ;-)!**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_


	10. Desire

_**Hello Everyone! **_

_**I'm glad you liked the last chapter, and I'm sorry for not updating sooner. I'm a bit stuck on all of my stories. I've been dealing with some…stuff. Old stuff, but still painful stuff. It seems the demons of my past decided to pay be a visit only to open up old, deep emotional scars. I had a harsh reminder of some stuff I thought I was over, and it turns out that's not the case. If you know the feeling I'm talking about I'm sorry that you do, and if you don't, may fate see to keep it that way. Anyway… FanfictionLover: violent as always. I love it. But you're kinda putting the cart ahead of the horse. I can't kill William, at least not yet, and I can't use your idea yet because they haven't actually done anything deserving of it. Rest assured that's where I was heading; I just have to get there. Ladytiarra: see about the forbidden love thing…just remember who the paring is… This chapter will be more on Harry and William, and then maybe an emotional scene between Harry and The Dark Lord.**_

_**I don't own Harry Potter!**_

_**Enjoy!**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_

**Chapter Nine: Desire**

**Harry's POV**

"Time," he called. The sand was warm under his bare feet as he moved between the two panting individuals. One was a woman named Reece, older than him by double; her hair was cut short, close to her head. She was small, but fast. The other was taller than anyone he had ever seen, only a few years older than him. His name was Grode and was built like a mountain. He was strong and surprisingly light on his feet. Both of them had a simple dagger in their grip. The weapons were warded so that they didn't cause unnecessary damage to one another. Grode sported a few shallow cuts, while Reece seemed remotely unharmed.

"Grode, what did you do wrong?" Harry asked looking first at the man, "You're bigger than she is, stronger too, why didn't you win?"

"I don't know Sir," he snapped, frustrated. He glared at him, his hands clenched at his sides.

Harry shook his head, "You got angry. Never when you're in a combat situation do you ever get angry. If you show any emotions than you're dead."

"But Sir-"

"No buts. If this was an actual fight you would have been killed. I can teach you how to swing a sword, but I can't teach you how to take down an enemy if you're not willing to take this seriously." Harry continued.

"But Sir, I am taking this seriously," he hissed, "I don't know what you're looking for."

Harry sighed deeply. They had been in training for two weeks, and while some like Reece and William who caught on at a surprising rate, others couldn't grasp that this wasn't an art. They weren't making art, they were making bodies, and you did what it took to survive. "I'm looking for you to keep your emotions in check even when you're losing. I'm looking for you to remain calm no matter what. If you get angry you are dead." He sighed again, "You're finished for today. You both are dismissed."

Without another word he continued on. The training area had been sectioned off, a clean divide between his students and Grey's. Harry had taken the liberty of dividing it farther into an area for workout, one for hand to hand combat, and one for long ranged weaponry. Moving dummies were set up for practice; a few attacked them empty handed, learning the basic moves before he pitted them against each other. Farther down, others were firing guns that he had begged the Dark Lord to provide him with. He made his way over to the later.

He paced behind the line, watching as they lined up their shot. He paused behind a familiar blonde head.

Fire.

Miss.

Fire.

Miss.

Fire.

"Damn it Pence," he snapped, tearing the weapon from his grasp. William had kept his distance for the most part since Harry had turned him down. For that he was grateful. He didn't feel like dying because of some kid. Even so he couldn't help but feel the familiar warmth spread through him. There was no denying that he was attracted to the blonde, but there wasn't much he could do about it. "Are you even fucking aiming?" he scolded. "All of you come here."

He waited until they had all gathered behind him before continuing, "This seems to be a common problem in all of you. You don't wait. You just fire at random and hope that you hit." He turned his back on them and pressed the butt of the rifle to his shoulder. He closed his eyes, finding his center. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes on the exhale.

He took his aim.

Wait.

Breath.

Wait.

The dummies danced just on the edge of his field of vision.

Turn.

Fire.

Move.

Fire.

Wait.

Fire.

Fire.

Stop.

They fell one by one.

He lowered the gun.

His ears rang.

"Any questions?" He asked.

He was hollow.

He had missed this.

The realization hit him suddenly. He had actually missed the feeling of a gun in his hands. He had missed the feeling of fighting, of killing. Even if they were only dummies, it felt right. How long had it been since he had been in combat? A year at least, he had been 'awake' for nearly two months on top of that. He had the unbearable urge to kill something. The thought should have worried him, but it was to be expected, he supposed. He had spent nearly every moment of five years fighting. It was only natural that he had side effects.

He handed the weapon back to William without looking, "Your turn." He waved his wand and more targets replaced the old ones.

He watched as the boy took his place. Harry shook his head and stepped up behind him, nudging his feet into a wider stance while guiding his hands into position. Standing this close he could smell the spicy sent of the soap he had used the morning. Harry ignored the heat that rose in him as he wrapped his hands firmly around William's.

"Like this," he murmured. "Aim."

William lifted his arms until it was pointed at the target.

"Now wait." Be it through natural talent or years of practice he knew exactly where the bullet would go without having looked down the sites. "Now." He pulled the trigger with him. A familiar crack filled the air and the dummy fell over. "Perfect." Harry breathed in his ear.

He dropped his hands. As he stepped back, William turned. His eyes were hot with desire, and he stepped closer. He leaned closer, his lips hovering only inches from Harry's. His heart pounded in his chest. It had been a long time since he had reacted like this towards anyone. It was almost like he was a teenager again without any kind of control. He was half tempted to let him kiss him. He likely would have, if he didn't feel the familiar prickle of power dance along his skin.

He stepped back, putting distance between them before turning, "My Lord," He bowed. He could feel his anger through the thin connection they had. His shoulders tightened in a mix of fear and the reminder of pain.

"Come," he said simply. His eyes were perfectly empty, giving away nothing. It would have been better if he had been angry, at least then Harry would have known what to expect.

He dismissed his men and followed without question. The Dark Lord was silent as he led him through the house. Everyone they passed bowed, and stepped to the side as they passed. Harry half feared that he was leading him back down to the basement, but when they mounted the stairs he released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

The Dark Lord stepped into his office, leading Harry to the center of the room before turning to him. "Do tell me," he hissed, the first hints of anger creeping into his gaze, "What exactly you were thinking before I made myself known?"

"I don't know what you're talking about my Lord," he responded. He studied the floor as if it held the answers to the universe.

"The fool doesn't suit you. Let me try again," he jerked Harry's head up so that he was looking him in the eye. "Did I not make myself clear? You belong to me. _Every_ part of you. From head to cock and everything in between you are mine," He gripped his chin harder, making Harry wince. "I don't like to share Harry, and I will kill to keep what is mine." His eyes burned with possession.

"Forgive me my Lord," Harry said softly, "If I may speak frankly. Please don't take this as anything but a simple observation. I am not yours, not exactly. There is no Mark on my wrist; the only thing that could even remotely resemble a mark that expresses me as yours is a scar that constructs your initial above my ass."

The Dark Lord's eyes harden, and rather than strike him as Harry was expecting, he simply nodded. "That is true. Lift your arm."

Harry did so automatically. Obedience was second nature when he was in the Dark Lord's presence. Again contrary to what he was thinking, the Dark Lord didn't press his wand to his wrist. Instead he snapped a large silver bracelet, more like a manacle than a piece of jewelry to his wrist. It fit snuggly, without impeding the movement of his wrist. He stared at it in confusion and the Dark Lord only smiled.

"Consider it a symbol," he hissed. "I can't officially Mark you without your consent, but this will serve its purpose. I doubt we'll have a problem with your…inability to control yourself."

"I don't understand my Lord," he said plainly. He examined the ruins that were etched on the surface of the mettle. He didn't recognize any of them, but there was the unmistakable press of the Dark Lord's magic on it.

"You will," he smirked. "Now leave me."

Harry nodded once, and turned to leave.

"One last thing Harry," he paused at the door, "Because I did not make myself clear before. If you so much as think about laying a hand on William Pence or anyone else for that matter. I will kill them, and leave you in such a state that you will never touch anything ever again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal my Lord," he responded softly.

Harry was restless. It was getting late, but he wasn't tired. From the bit of research he had done several years ago, when he was looking for the Horcruxes, it was a side effect of creating one. Not only would he be impossible to kill so long as the Horcrux remained intact, he needed less sleep, less food than someone who was mortal. He found himself wandering the near silent house, the bracelet heavy on his wrist.

Upon inspection, he had discovered that it had no opening. Every time he moved it, it tightened or loosened to accommodate that part of his wrist. He was sure that even if he crushed his own hand to get it off it would remain in place. He had decided that he didn't care. He had made a mistake, allowing William to get under his skin. He should consider himself lucky that a magical bracelet and a reprimand was all he was getting.

_I disobeyed. I deserve much worse…_ The thought came on its own accord, almost startling him. He didn't believe that did he? Of course not. And yet… _He is my Master now, and I've displease him. I _should_ be punished for it._ Harry bit his lip. If you had told him a year ago that he would be calling Lord Voldemort master, he would have laughed in your face, but here he was, accepting his punishment like a good little slave.

The night air was cool as he stepped outside. He took a deep breath, enjoying the feel of the ground under his bare feet. The light of the full moon illuminated the world, and he could clearly see a dark figure in the training grounds. From the looks of it, it was one of his men. They moved smoothly, graceful as they practiced with a sword. Harry drew closer, impressed. They were good, perhaps one of the best he had. As he neared, he realized who it was.

"Fuck," he said under his breath. William was practicing, the silvery moonlight highlighting the muscles on his bare chest. There was no denying that he was beautiful. "Walk away Harry," he murmured to himself. He should have turned his back, but there was something utterly captivating about the boy. It was almost worth the risk. He watched the boy finish out his set, landing smoothly on one knee, panting.

"Sir?" William asked, spotting him as he lifted his head to wipe the sweat from his brow.

"Impressive," he said as nonchalantly as he could, acting as if he weren't affected by the young man before him. "If only you were that skilled with a gun, perhaps you'd have a chance at being a legendary warrior."

"Thank you Sir," he said, coming closer. "It seems like your instruction was a great benefit earlier. I'm only upset that we were interrupted." He stood close now, just inside that which was comfortable.

"I would watch your tongue Mister Pence. That is the Dark Lord you are speaking of." Despite his promise to his Master, he couldn't bring himself to step away as the young man stepped closer. He now stood as close as he had earlier. "You either have an unfulfilled death wish or you are very bold," Harry said softly, still not moving back.

"Perhaps I just know what I want?" he offered, lightly touching Harry's cheek as he had the night before. "Perhaps I don't like walking away from someone who wants me." He slid his fingers down his chest.

Harry sighed in frustration. He should push him away. He would get them both killed if he didn't, but he couldn't seem to think past the ache in his cock. Without warning, he pulled the other boy close, crushing William's lips to his own. There was one perfect second; long enough for Harry to realize that he was an amazing kisser, before the bracelet grew hot. Without warning he shoved William away, collapsing to the ground. His stomach rolled, and what little he had in it spewed out, coating the grass. He continued to puke until it was nothing but dry heaves. He understood now.

"Fuck," he hissed, shaking from the exertion. There were hands hold back his hair, and he immediately pushed them away. "Don't touch me William," he snapped, his hand coming down in the vomit as he scrambled away from him.

The other boy looked hurt, but said nothing. Harry looked down at the silver that encased his wrist. It was still glowing, the ruins clearly visible in the dark. He could almost hear the Dark Lord laughing, and without warning he stood, running towards the house and away from William. It was cowardice, but it was better than the alternative.

_Never again…_ he vowed _I will never touch him again…_ He knew it was a lie; that second of pure bliss was as addicting as any drug. _I am so fucked…_

_**Thank you for reading Everyone. Sorry, no emotional scene; that will come next chapter. In order to give credit where credit is due… I kinda took the idea for the bracelet from one of my favorite books "Beyond Shadows." It's one of the Night Angel Trilogy, and it involves something similar (the guy can't be with anyone but one woman because of compulsion magic on a wedding earring that he and another woman wears). I'm sorry Brent Weeks, I love your books! Anyway, what did you think? I hope you liked it. Please put in your two sense. You don't get to complain about the story if you don't tell me what you think. The next chapter, as I said will have an important scene with the Dark Lord and Harry, as well as some more William. With nothing but love:**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_


	11. Disobedience

_**Hello Everyone. **_

_**It seems last chapter went over well so here's the next one. FanFiction Lover: First off, William does deserve to die, and the Dark Lord isn't going to let his disobedience go, trust me. I have a plan. In fact you'll see some of it come to boil in this chapter. Harry will get what's coming to him for his actions, just not in the way you think, and the same goes for William. Just wait, I'm sure you'll enjoy what's going to happen. Just remember that this is the Dark Lord we're talking about; there isn't much he doesn't know. Guava2: Kind as always. Thank you. Anyway this chapter will have an important scene between Harry and Voldemort. It will show a bit of the Dark Lord's humanity, as well as something pretty significant between Harry and William. I'm going to say up front: FanFiction Lover, you're going to want to kill them after this chapter, just relax and remember that they are going to suffer for this. That being said… WARNING: if you've made it this far than you know that there is sex in it. I mean really, do I have to tell you every time that there's going to be sex? Actually yes, yes I do. As always**_

_**I don't own Harry Potter (if I did I wouldn't have had to buy the books that are currently sitting on my shelf and Harry would have died at the end…)**_

_**Enjoy!**_

_**~AR**_

**Chapter Ten: Disobedience**

**Harry's POV**

It had been nearly a week since the kiss, and he had done all he could to avoid William. The Dark Lord gave no indication that he knew, though Harry was sure that he did. He seemed satisfied with knowing that Harry could not touch William or anyone else for that matter without vomiting. It did exactly what he had meant for it to do, humiliate him if he had even the slightest attraction to anyone but the Dark Lord.

Harry sighed deeply, and stared up at the ceiling of his room. He couldn't sleep. To top everything off, the Dark Lord, likely as a form of punishment, had refused to touch him. He had been "allowed" to pleasure the Dark Lord however he saw fit, but he himself was denied it. It was almost painful. He had gone three years without any kind of sexual contact and with no desire to seek it out, so now, after having the Dark Lord take him whenever the chance arose being denied release was torture. It wasn't the worse that he had been through, he could handle this… It wasn't as if he was enjoying the Dark Lord's company he was a prisoner… He would have left by now if he cared enough to…

_He was lying on his stomach. The stone was cold, almost soothing against his aching skin. His wrists burned where he had cut them. If he had been only a few seconds faster, he wouldn't be here. He was weeping softly, his cheek pressed to the stone. He prayed that death take him, but he knew that wouldn't. The Dark Lord was monitoring him around the clock to ensure that his heart continued to beat._

_There was a small sigh as the door hissed open. He was trembling now, a low, broken keen falling from his lips. There was only one set of footsteps. He tried to curl his body around itself, but he was having trouble making his limbs respond. _

"_You are a strong one," the Dark Lord hissed. His feet came into his view. They were bare, and more human looking than Harry though possible. Voldemort knelt, brushing his fingers along his forehead. At one point he would have screamed as his scar burned, but prolonged contact had desensitized him to it. All he did was whimper softly. His fingers slid lower, brushing the wetness from his cheeks. He was so gentle, a complete contrast to the cruelty he had inflicted before. _

_Harry relaxed slightly. His fingers stroking his cheek were the most comforting thing he had felt in so long. He couldn't help but relax against them… _

_Suddenly the Dark Lord was in his mind, flipping through his memories. Him standing on the edge of the forbidden forest gathering the nerve to go to his Death… Him sitting in their tent, cleaning his gun with Hermione leaning against his legs… Him sobbing over Ginny's body… His first day at Hogwarts… His first encounter with Voldemort… the pain that ripped through his body at the hands of his cousin… the hunger… Days without food… the stench of piss in his cupboard… they had forgotten about him again… _

Harry jerked awake with a small whimper. He looked sleepily around his room, for a moment confused. Slowly he relaxed, releasing his death grip on the dagger he kept under his pillow. For all intents and purposes, he was safe. He had fallen asleep while thinking of his punishment and his mind had paid him back for it. Harry shook his head as if to rid himself of the dream. There was no way he was going to go back to sleep after that. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was just after two in the morning.

With a defeated sigh he untangled himself from his sheets and scooped up the sweatpants that lay crumpled on the floor. He didn't bother with a shirt; and he wouldn't have bothered with pants if he didn't think the Dark Lord would have skinned him alive for walking around naked. He had no shame left. There wasn't a person in the manor that hadn't seen him naked already. He hesitated, his fingers tracing over the pistol in its holster on his headboard. After a moment's deliberation he decided his didn't need it. Runcore would kill him if he found out he was relying on his weapons for everything. He smiled sadly at the thought of his old mentor. _What would he say if he knew what I had become…?_

Not wanting to follow that train of thought, Harry made his way to the kitchens. It had been a few days since he had eaten last. He wasn't hungry, but the lingering vestiges of his dream clung to the near starvation of his childhood. The house was still as he made his way through it. All were asleep, but he knew they would be up and ready at a moment's notice if an alarm was sounded. They were loyal, for the most part, more so than the Light's men. They would obey partly out of fear and partly out of respect. There are few that would even think of inaction if they were called. The Dark Lord treated them all the same. They were all "tested," as he called it, in the beginning. When he had them broken, he rebuilt them piece by piece, with such care that they couldn't help but love him.

The thought made him pause, his hand on the bannister to the staircase between the second and ground floors. He loved the Dark Lord. Not in the way he had loved his wife, but he doubted he could love anyone like that again. He would kill for the Dark Lord; he had killed for him. He would do what he asked without hesitation, not because he shared his views, but because he loved him. He trusted the Lord Voldemort knew what was right. Any punishment was due to his own disobedience, his own hesitation. How could the slave know more than the master? These thoughts would have been troubling a year ago, but as with most things, it didn't matter much. It was just the way things were. He could accept the truth because there was no way he could change it. The Dark Lord had proven it time and time again.

With that new revelation tucked away in the back of his mind, Harry continued to the kitchen. It was small for a house so large. Like most of the manor, it was modern, and shockingly muggle. Every appliance was top of the line, stainless-steel and "one-touch" operated. The cabinets were made of dark, cherry wood and the counters of black granite. Pots and pans of every kind were suspended over an island in front of the stove; beside it was a large refrigerator. It was that that caught his attention. He had never seen the person that was rummaging in it before. He was dressed in a dark green t-shirt with black pajama pants. They set off is snowy skin. His hair was short, perfectly straight, and so black it had almost a blue-ish sheen. His face was obscured by the door to the refrigerator, but Harry could see the muscles rippling in his back. There was something undeniably sexy about this stranger.

_It's unfortunate he has to die…_ Harry thought. He moved forward slowly on the balls of his feet. He kept his eyes on the stranger as he pulled a kitchen knife from the block on the island. He moved achingly slow, sure that the man would turn around and see him. When that didn't happen, he continued forward, positioning himself perfectly to grab the man and press the knife to his throat.

His muscles tightened in preparation.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the man said. He straightened, and turned. The look in his red eyes was amused.

The knife slid immediately from his grasp, and he sank to his knees, "Forgive me my Lord," he stammered. He kept his gaze on the floor in front of him. He has almost attacked Lord Voldemort in his own kitchen. He waited for the pain to come, but all he heard was laughter.

"Stand up Harry," Voldemort laughed, offering his hand in assistance.

Harry took it. Surprised at how warm, how alive the hand felt. "I'm sorry my Lord, I-I didn't recognize you," he glanced at his face and then away. Had he thought William was attractive? The Dark Lord was breath-taking. His skin was perfectly flawless, molded into the image of a god. It was the face that greek sculptors had attempted in vain to capture in stone.

"I know," he said simply, turning back to the fridge. "You didn't think that what you're used to is how I actually look did you? You created a Horcrux and it didn't turn you into something horrific did it?"

"No, my Lord," he said simply.

"I picked a form that would strike fear into the hearts of any that looked upon me. Very few see me as I was when I made my first Horcurx. Had I known you would have been awake, I wouldn't have used it." Seemingly dissatisfied that he couldn't find whatever it was he was looking for, the Dark Lord closed the refrigerator with a snap.

"I'm…Sorry my Lord?" Harry offered. It was off-putting the casualness in which the Dark Lord spoke. It was completely different than what he was used to.

The Dark Lord laughed again, and went to one of the cabinets. Harry felt his mouth go dry as he watched him stretch to reach something on the top shelf. Surly he knew what he was doing to him. There was no way he could not know. He swallowed hard.

"You have no reason to apologize," he sighed in frustration and closed the cabinet empty handed.

"If you'd like my Lord, I know my way around a kitchen. I am more than capable of making whatever you'd like me to," he offered. "I learned to cook fairly young. From the time I could hold a spoon."

"I'd like that," Voldemort said, leaning against the counter to watch.

Feeling self-conscious he breezed through the kitchen, pausing first at the fridge to gather the ingredients for a beef soup and grilled cheese. He grabbed a pan from above the island, setting it on a burner and pouring in water with a few beef cubes. With that simmering, he turned back to the raw ingredients he had taken out. He scooped the knife that he had dropped, and started cutting with practiced ease. Soon the kitchen was filled with the scent of beef and fresh vegetables.

"Where did you learn to cook?" the Dark Lord asked after a moment of watching. Harry had been so focused on his cooking that he hadn't heard him come up beside him.

"Like I said, I was cooking by the time I could work a stove. I didn't so much learn as had it beaten into me. You figure out pretty quickly what to do when you get hit for burning the bacon when you'r no more than six." He struggled to keep his voice neutral. "Doubtless you already knew that. You did tear through my memories." He turned away from the Dark Lord to tip a cutting board full of onions into the pan.

"I saw what I could, but you had walls up that were…particularly difficult to breech. Were you really beaten for such a mistake?"

"Yes my Lord," he started on the peppers. "That and much worse. The muggles…my mother's family, they didn't like me much. I'm convinced that they were trying to kill me in hopes that they wouldn't be burdened with raising a wizard. Naturally they told me nothing. I didn't know I was different until I got my letters, and even then…" he shook his head, mechanically dicing the pepper as he spoke. "I didn't find out how different until I realized everyone knew my name and _expected _me to act like I was a hero." He added the last of the ingredients, adding a dash of spice. He leaned back against the counter while it simmered. He would start on the grilled cheese when the soup was finished.

"It must have been difficult for you. And these muggles? How did they react to your becoming?" The Dark Lord gazed at him with interest… and pity? brimming in his red eyes. He seemed to generally care about what Harry was saying.

"If anything they tried harder to kill me. They were afraid for a few months, but then things got worse." Harry ran a hand through his loose hair. He hadn't bothered to put it up so it hung, curling to the tops of his thighs. He knew he should cut it, it was more of an annoyance than anything, but his grieving mind had vowed to someone very important to him that he would not cut it as part of their bargain.

"I see," the Dark Lord cocked his head to the side, studying him. While in this form, Harry could almost believe that Voldemort was like any other human, and wouldn't kill him as quick as look at him.

"Forgive me my Lord. I must be boring you with my complaints of things long past." He turned away and buttered a piece of bread, tossing it in a pan and layering a slice of cheese and second slice of bread on top. He felt the pain of an ancient scar deep in his chest. He didn't like thinking of his time with the Dursly's, it was one of the few things left that could truly hurt him. The scars they had carved into him, while invisible, were the deepest he would ever receive. They ached in a way that would have had him falling on his own blade to end it if he were a different man.

"Look at me Harry," he murmured from just behind him. There was something unidentifiable in his voice.

Harry turned towards him to find that the elder man was standing so that he was nearly pressed to his chest. The look in his eye hinted that he had heard everything he had been thinking.

"I understand," he took Harry's chin in his hand forcing him to look him in the eye. "More thank you would think." His eyes burned with an emotion Harry didn't think he was capable of. Empathy.

He couldn't breathe, as he stared into his master's eyes. Lust and desperation pounded in his blood. He leaned forward, needing the physical contact, when the scent of burning filled his nose. "Fuck!" his jerked from the Dark Lord's grasp, grabbing blindly for the burning food. He barely registered the burning in his hand as he crossed the room and slammed the pan into the sink, throwing on the cold water. The pan hissed and sputtered as the water hit it. "Mother fuck," he hissed, cradling his hand to his chest.

The sent still hung in the air, bringing with it a sense of shame, and fear, "Forgive me my Lord. It was a mistake, I wasn't paying attention, and-" he was babbling, without turning towards his master. He couldn't help it. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes, caused by his subconscious reaction to burning food.

"Harry?" a familiar voice came from the doorway to his left.

_Not now…_ he thought miserably. He glanced at the Dark Lord to see that he had taken on his most common form. His eyes were cool, empty. "William," Harry said, never breaking eye contact with the Dark Lord.

"What happened?" he asked, he much like Harry was dressed in nothing but a pair of sweat pants.

Harry couldn't help it, his jaw dropped. He was even more attractive half naked. On the heels of that came the tell-tail nauseousness. He swallowed hard, and forced his desire in check. It was more difficult than it should have been. "Nothing, I burned myself," he said simply. Very deliberately he turned away from the tempting form in front of him. He went to finish the Dark Lord's meal as quickly as he could without looking at either of them. His hand burned as he moved. By the feel of it, it was at least a second degree burn.

"My Lord," William bowed in respect before going to the fridge to retrieve a bottle of water chugging it in one go.

"William," the Dark Lord responded coolly. It was hard to believe that he was the same person that had comforted him before.

"It's finished, my Lord," Harry said after a moment. He poured the soup into a bowl and placed it on a plate beside the sandwich.

"Thank you Harry," the Dark Lord said, his gaze never left William. His fingers brushed Harry's as he took the food. Harry could feel it; he was angry, his hatred for the boy boiling just under the surface, daring either of them to make a move towards each other.

As if oblivious to it, William excused himself, leaving them alone.

"Leave me," the Dark Lord hissed. They fury was evident in his words. He was sure he had seen his initial reaction to William. Harry obeyed.

He made his way back towards his room, rounding the corner, and almost colliding with someone. "What are you doing out here?" Harry hissed softly, glaring at the boy who had obviously been waiting for him.

William took his burnt hand wordlessly and smoothed a cream over it. The burning immediately ceased. "How does that feel?" he asked, letting go of his hand.

"What do you want, William?" Harry asked. In his experience, no one did anything for you if they didn't want something, and he was in no mood to play games.

"I had to see you," William admitted, chewing on his lip. "I thought that maybe we could-"

"Could what? Fuck? Even if it wouldn't get us both killed," Harry held up his wrist, the bracelet shimmering in the moonlight, "We can't."

William stepped closer, laying his hand on Harry wrist. "I know," his breath fanned over his face, and Harry couldn't help but moan. It had been too long, and he was feeling vulnerable. "But I have a way around it."

Magic sparkled in the air, and when William withdrew his hand the bracelet lay open in it. He grinned triumphantly.

"How-" Before Harry could process what had happened, William crushed his mouth to his. Harry groaned low in the back of his throat, all thoughts of the consequences gone. Every ounce of self-preservation he had died under the press of William's lips. He would ask later how he had managed to do that, but for now he kissed the tempting boy in his arms. He slid his tongue into his mouth, and was rewarded with William pressing himself against him. When they came up for air, their eyes locked.

Gasping for breath, Harry grabbed his hand, half dragging him up the stairs. He didn't stop until he reached his room. He gently pushed him towards the bed, pausing only long enough to lock the door behind him. When they were alone, he kissed him again, William's hands roaming over his body as they did so. Harry moaned against his lips as his hand found his already hard cock.

He flipped the younger man over suddenly, pinning him to the bed as he tore off his clothes, without warning, he slid two fingers into him. William stiffened, letting out a small sound of pain, ending in a moan when Harry flexed his fingers, rubbing the bundle of nerves a few inches in. He continued until he was squirming under him, begging for Harry to take him.

He couldn't hold off any longer, it was as if all of the sexual tension from the past week came to a head in that moment. He took him quickly, hard and fast. William thrust with him, nearly screaming in pleasure when Harry grabbed his cock. Harry came hard, buried deep in William's ass. He could feel the other boy's seed coating his own hand.

As quickly as it had started it was over. They lay there spent, panting. If he could have moved he would have used a charm to clean them both, but exhaustion overtook them. Harry was dimly aware of William snuggled up to him just before a deep, dreamless sleep took him.

_**Thank you for reading Everyone! Sooo what did you think? Fanfiction Lover, please don't murder anyone. The next chapter will have another time skip, and if I told you what it was, I would be ruining the surprise! I love you all! Review, please review!**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_


	12. Revelations

_**Hello Everyone!**_

_**So the last chapter got your attention ;-). Tenshi-Lily-Hime-Sama: Welcome aboard Love. I hope to hear more from you as the chapter's progress. FanFiction Lover: I love you my dear. You reacted exactly how I thought you would. Just don't die of a heart attack on me. So that you know I laughed until I cried at your violence. Don't worry; punishment (and death) is coming if not in this chapter than next. Gabi: come back to me Love, don't die on me yet. You'll miss all of the best parts! This chapter will bring an end to Harry and William. So be ready. That being said: WARNING: blah blah blah mention of sex blah blah blah torture.**_

_**I don't own Harry Potter.**_

_**Enjoy!**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_

**Chapter Eleven: Revelations**

**Harry's POV**

One week.

It had been one week since he and William had fucked, and he was still alive. He couldn't believe it. He expected any second the Dark Lord would come to him, and end his life. He was positive of it. Yet every time he was in his master's presence he gave no indication that he knew of his betrayal. Or the countless times it happened every night for the past week.

His days were consumed with training. With precious little time left before his students were pitted against Grey's he drove them harder than he ever had. He pushed them right to their limit every time, but never beyond. They were getting better. Not ready for actual combat, but more than prepared for the duel. They were becoming a unit. If things went well next week, he would begin preparing them for war. Already he could feel the bonds of brotherhood forming. They would be a force to be reckoned with if they could pass this test.

If he wasn't with his men, he was by the Dark Lord's side, attending meeting, assisting with war plans, or simply acting a secretary. Things were as they always had been between them. The Dark Lord retained the cool persona of a ruthless leader. There was no hint of the man that had conversed with him while he cooked, nor was there any indication that he looked anything more than the Lord Voldemort Harry had known since the beginning. He didn't seem to know what Harry was doing at night.

The first morning after having woken up to tangled sheets and William curled against his body he had panicked. He had all but thrown William from his bed, slamming and locking the door behind him. He was sure he was going to die. He had no idea what had come over him. He would have never touched William knowing it meant death. He supposed he could have blamed it on the fact that he was feeling vulnerable, but he knew no excuse would be enough to prevent him from death if the Dark Lord came for him. He had sworn that he would never touch the boy again, and he had stuck to that promise right until William came to his room that evening. He couldn't resist, and as with the night before they ended up in a sweaty mess come morning. He rationalized that he was living on borrowed time. Surely the Dark Lord would kill him soon. He may as well enjoy himself. They had come together every night in that week, burning with the fevered intensity of a man going to war.

Harry sighed deeply, absently stroking down the younger man's back. He didn't open his eyes as William shifted closer; he was too tired to do any more than lay there. He was a dead man, he knew that much. And as a dead man, he could indulge a bit. His only regret would be dragging his lover to his death as well. Harry trailed his fingers down his spine again, and the boy moved so that he was straddling his waist.

"Mmmm," Harry grumbled softly as his nails raked down his chest. William's fingers traced random patterns across his chest, lightly trailing along his abs, before making a circle back up. He traced up his neck, along his jaw. His fingers moved as if memorizing every feature of his face. He paused at his scar, his touch almost nonexistent. Harry smiled. There wasn't a time when he had felt so relaxed. If he didn't know any better he would have said he was in love.

William's fingers found their way into his hair, brushing it from his face. Harry sighed in content. If he was going to die, he supposed this was worth it. He tottered on the edge of sleep. His senses were numbed by some damn good sex. He almost didn't realize that something was wrong.

Almost.

William's fingers tightened in his hair, jerking his head roughly to the side.

Harry's eyes flew open in time to see the blade come down, slicing for his now exposed throat.

He bucked his hips, causing his aim to be off. He missed, slicing through the pillow instead.

His hands scrambled blindly under the nest of pillows, finding a dagger. He freed it from its sheath without thinking. Slicing up and forcing William to move or die.

The boy sprang across the room, taking a defensive crouch with the wardrobe at his back.

Harry climbed to his feet, dodging back as he swept forward again.

The blade narrowly missed his throat.

He blocked with his free hand and stabbed for his chest.

He hit nothing but air.

They moved in a slow circle, each looking for an opening.

Harry saw one.

Strike.

Block.

Back.

Circle.

In the back of his mind he was aware that this was no novice. William knew what he was doing.

He was good.

One of the best he had ever seen.

The boy attacked.

Parry.

Strike.

Miss.

Harry tripped over a fallen pillow.

He kicked.

Flying.

Crash into the nightstand.

William was on him in an instant.

The blade came down.

Deflect.

Crash.

Several pajama-clad men and women poured in.

Some with wands raised, others (to Harry's pleasure) with a dagger clutched in their hands.

William struck.

There was the unmistakable pull of power.

Their muscles locked.

The power pulled them up so that they were both standing side by side, facing the Dark Lord.

His red eyes went first to Harry, then to William, taking in their naked state, and then to the disheveled state of the bed. If he hadn't known before he knew now. His eyes flashed dangerously. Harry was suspended spread eagle in midair, the Dark Lord flicked his wand, and His arms were pulled painfully back, stopping just shy of dislocating them. Harry screamed in pain. He was fucked…

Harry knelt before the Dark Lord's desk. If it had been any other time he would have been sitting by his side, but this was different. He had figured he would have been killed on the spot, but instead he had been taken to a small room and left for hours until he was come for. He was taken to the Dark Lord's office, and interrogated.

He had told him everything; from the first night he had William to the boy trying to kill him. He spared nothing. The would-be assassin was nowhere to be found. He had been taken somewhere, most likely down to the basement. Harry felt hallowed out. He knew he should feel betrayed, or at least upset, but something in him prevented the emotion from coming. It was perhaps the worst and best feeling he had ever experienced.

"So you slept with Mister Pence, defying my orders, not once, or even twice but several in the course of this week. You then proceed to engage in combat with the young man as he had tried to kill you." His words were like ice, cutting sharper than any blade.

"Yes my Lord."

"Why shouldn't I kill you?" He demanded.

"You should my Lord. I have disobeyed and am willing to accept any punishment you feel is fit." He meant it too. He didn't know what he was thinking. He should have never even looked at William, let alone allowed him in his bed.

"Oh how I wish I could. Mister Pence's room was searched. Among his things were various letters to someone named 'T' spelling out his plans to assassinate you and complete his contract, various weapons and poisons, a type of potion that causes attraction, and this," he held up a small jar. It was the burn cream William had rubbed on his hand the first night they were together. "After having this examined by Severus, it has been revealed as a very powerful lust potion. An aphrodisiac. One touch of which will have anyone ready to fuck whatever comes there way."

"I don't understand my Lord," Harry replied. Surely it didn't mean what he thought it did.

"You were set up Harry. It seems I am not the only one whose head the Order wants."

"My Lord I-"

"I cannot kill you for something that was not wholly your doing. However, we are still questioning Mister Pence. Come." He commanded sharply, rising.

He led Harry down to the stairs, and into the basement. He hadn't been down here since he had come up. It was colder than he remembered. The echoes of water somewhere farther down reached his ears. He was expecting to be taken to William, but the Dark Lord led him into an empty cell.

"Arms above your head, back to the wall," his tone left no room for argument.

Harry did what he was told. He was still naked, no one had bothered to get him clothes, but he didn't mind. The stone was damp, the cold sinking deep into his bones. The Dark Lord waved his wand and chains snaked around his wrists so that he was bound to the wall. "My Lord?" He didn't understand, he had said he couldn't do anything because of the trickery.

"I said I would not kill you because you were betrayed," his eyes blazed hot with fury, "I never said I would not hurt you."

Fear clenched his stomach as the Dark Lord glided forward. He prepared himself for the pain of a blow. It never came. Instead, there was the press of something cool just below the chains. The Dark Lord slid his gloved hands down his arms, spreading the lust potion down them. He dipped his fingers in the jar, smearing more down his chest and stomach. He proceeded to coat the rest of his body with the cream, applying a liberal amount to his already hard cock.

Harry moaned despite himself, and tried to thrust against his hand, needing some kind of contact, but the Dark Lord pulled away. "You will stay here until I am ready to come and get you," he hissed.

A fire was burning in his blood, burning the hottest on his cock. He was already hard as steal and the cream had only been on his skin for a few seconds. He strained against the chains, hoping for some kind of friction to stop this burning, but he was held in place. He screamed, struggling harder, desire boiling him from the inside out.

"Please," he begged, straining until his muscles popped with the tension.

The Dark Lord only smirked, eyeing his handy work before turning to go. He said something just before he closed and locked the door behind him, but Harry could not hear it over his own screams for mercy.

He was burning alive, slowly but surely he was burning. Alone. In the Dark. He could think of nothing but the fire that raged in him. He wanted, no needed release. He needed to feel the press of flesh to his body, but the only contact he got was from the icy stone. It offered no release to the inferno.

_**Thank you for reading Everyone! So what do you think? Better? I bet you didn't see that coming! I know that this chapter is a bit short in comparison, but there's more to come next chapter, including William's death. Review Everyone! Please review. I love to hear from you.**_

_**~AR**_


	13. Revenge

_**Hello Everyone!**_

_**I'd like to begin this AN with an apology: I've left you hanging with last chapter, and have made you wait. My only excuse is that I've been busy. I just started college and I'm not going to have the time to write except for between classes, at night, and on the weekends. You'll probably be getting a chapter every Sunday evening (at least that's my goal). Now to continue: I have gotten more reviews on last chapter than any other chapter I have EVER written. I guess you guys like it. I'm going to try and respond to them all that pertain to Chapter 12 here, if you wrote one before that, and really want a reply, PM me and tell me so I can do so. FanFiction Lover: so you're no longer mad about them sleeping together? Good to know. William is going to die, and it's going to be epic. kater994: Harry's learned his lesson (for the most part) but you'll see what I mean later. Gabi: I love that you're obsessed, and Harry's the top in their relationship. However in our actual couple, Voldemort tops, no exceptions. noelnoel2: thank you for reading thus far. I'm sorry I couldn't bring you in. Tenshi-Lily-Hime-Sama: He is, and sadly Voldemort is the jealous type, he will always react badly if anyone tries to step in on what is his. Titania of Swords: Welcome to the club, there's cookies in the back, and I am glad not only that you love my fic, but that it was actually recommended to you! That makes me so happy! Shadoween: you know you're the only one that thought about the duel. Congratulations. I have a plan for that, just wait. honest critic: noting could stop me from writing. I'm glad I have you on your toes, because I'm looking forward to starting this chapter. Kirtash R: agreed love.**_

_**Ok, is that everyone? I think so… Ok this chapter will be William's death. WARNING: Torture, epic, sweet, revenge torture.**_

_**I don't own Harry Potter!**_

_**~Angelia**_

**Chapter Twelve: Revenge**

**Harry's POV**

The light seared his eyes when the door opened. He croaked. The aching in his shoulders was second only to the slowly fading burn that has spread like wildfire through his blood. He couldn't say how long he had been here; he was positive he had lost time somewhere between the Dark Lord leaving and the door opening again. He couldn't remember what he had said, what pleas he had screamed, all he could remember was burning alive. Now that his mind had cleared somewhat, he felt ashamed at how he had acted.

Ashamed and pissed.

He wanted to kill the man who had put him here. Not the Dark Lord; he was in the right, Harry deserved his punishment. But William, he was going to destroy the boy if the Dark Lord hadn't done so already. The fury was just this side of blinding. He was going to kill him. More than that, he was going to make him an example, a testament to what happens when he is crossed.

A familiar pale figure stepped inside, his long black robes whispering as they slid against the stone.

"My Lord," he lowered his head in submission. He begged silently, not knowing if it was for forgiveness or mercy. He would stay here for as long as the Dark Lord wished, in order to make amends for his mistakes.

The Dark Lord said nothing. He stepped forward, and lightly trailed a finger down Harry's cheek. Harry didn't move as he traced his features, much like William had done just before he had tried to kill him. The silence was heavy between them, neither needed to speak to know what the other felt. They had been bound for far too long for the necessity of words. With a shock Harry realized just how badly he had hurt him; he could feel the Dark Lord's betrayal deep in his chest. He hadn't thought the Dark Lord capable of such emotion; he was even more damaged than Harry himself with eight pieces of himself gone. _"I'm sorry,"_ he hissed softly in Parcletongue.

The Dark Lord moved suddenly, so that he was pressing Harry back against the wall. His lips hovered inches away, and for one wild moment, he thought the Dark Lord was going to kiss him, something he had yet to do. _"Never again Harry,"_ his voice was a soft and dangerous as it always was, with no hint of the hurt that Harry had sensed before, _"If you ever do anything like that again, your fault or no, I will kill you slowly and without mercy. Do you understand me?"_

"_Yes my Lord." _

"_Swear to it." _

"_I swear my Lord, on all that I am, on my magic and the life I do not value that I will never touch another person, man or woman, unless you release me from my bond to you."_ Harry felt his chest tighten, the air thickened with magic, becoming harder to breathe. He understood instantly, they were more than just petty words; he had made a vow, in Parcletongue no less. It could not be broken without the Dark Lord's words. Harry would have felt betrayed about it, but it felt right. He would do all it took to prevent this from happening again. If anyone crossed his path like William had, he would kill them himself if that's what it took. This vow he made to himself.

As if seeing the resolution in his eyes, Lord Voldemort smiled, "Now come," he commanded, "We have to do damage control."

The chains vanished and Harry collapsed. His shoulders screamed in agony as the blood flowed back to them, but after a moment he was able to stand. The Dark Lord gave a wave of his wand to clean him, and handed him a bundle of clothes.

As he pulled on his pants (no underwear, typical of the Dark Lord) he asked, "Damage control my Lord?"

"Yes, it seems your actions happening right under my nose have damaged my image of being all powerful. Mister Pence is crafty, not only was he planning on killing you, but he wanted to paint me as an ineffective leader, hoping to have my men desert me. I've been cleaning up your mess for the past twenty-four hours, now it's your turn." He explained coolly.

"What will you have me do my Lord?" Harry responded, "Mister Pence is? He's still alive?" Harry could help but feel the smallest bit of satisfaction; it meant that he would have the chance to convince the Dark Lord that his way of disposing of the assassin was best.

"He is," the Dark Lord replied. His lips curled into a chilling smile, "I was saving him for you."

Harry paused, his fingers on the button of his pants, "Thank you my Lord. Forgive me for asking, I'm not ungrateful, but why?"

He laughed, truly laughed, as if Harry had said something amusing. "Revenge is a desire that must be fulfilled. If it is denied, it can drive you mad. Trust me, I would know."

Harry wanted to ask more, but he stopped himself. The Dark Lord would likely not enjoy having his private life pried into. No sooner than Harry was dressed, did the door at the end of the hall open. Lucius came in, dragging one of his men (a woman actually, Reece). She seemed unharmed, but the man supported by Shean Grey looked as if he had been mauled by a bear. His shirt hung off his body in shreds, and between the loose fabrics, Harry could see bruising from what were undoubtedly broken ribs. He held his right foot off of the ground; the faint outline of a protruding bone could be seen through his pants. His nose was broken as well, blood was drying where it had run down his face and neck before it had been healed.

All in all, Harry couldn't help be impressed by the handiwork. It had been done by someone who knew what they were doing. He attempted to look Reece in the eye, but she avoided his gaze.

"My Lord," Lucius addressed him first, tightening his grip on Reece's arm. "This one has attacked Mister Clovard. I have several witnesses stating that they had some sort of verbal confrontation, followed by Miss Greta Reece attacking him. As you can see, she has done quite a bit of damage."

Reece had the wits about her to look ashamed, but Harry got the impression that it was more because of himself, than the Dark Lord. 'Forgive me my Lord; she is one of mine, if I may?" He waited until the Dark Lord had nodded, his eyes glittering with amusement before continuing. "Miss Reece, what is our first creed?" He demanded, his face conforming into a stern mask.

"Stay your blade, lest the only option is to fight," she replied, her gaze trained on her feet, "but Sir I-"

"And the second?" He snapped.

"When we fight, we fight to kill. A living enemy is one that may rise up once more. But Sir-"

"Then why were you fighting?" His voice rose, making her flinch. She was his second _No, first now_ best student. She was born to fight, and had even assisted in teaching when he was occupied. She would be something great when she received more training. Harry suspected there was something in her past that gave her the urge to fight as she did, but there was an unspoken rule among his men. You never asked about someone's past; it was they're business, not yours.

"Sir, Hernd was insulting you. I could not, stand by and allow him to continue. If you had heard what he was saying," she lifted her head slightly, to meet his icy gaze.

"You attacked someone over an insult?" he hissed sharply, "Have I taught you nothing? Never use your training for anything other than war or defense."

"I know Sir, but he was calling you nothing but a traitor whore, who has slept his way to the Dark Lord's trust, proceeded to nearly get himself killed because he couldn't keep his cock in his pants." She sounded desperate, as if she needed him to understand why she had to do what she did.

Harry couldn't help but feel the sting of his words, but rather than show it his eyes hardened farther, "I don't give a damn what he said, there is no excuse for what you did." He knew he was going too hard on her, but at least for now he needed to be stern.

He should have seen this coming. The Dark Lords words rang in his ears. It had been some time ago, after he had been brought up from the basement, but before he had created the Horcrux. Someone had insulted him similar to this, and the Dark Lord had informed him of a simple truth. _'They will not give you respect you have not earned Harry. These are not your precious Order, they are my Death Eaters. You're fame means nothing here; if anything they all hate you more for it. If you command their respect they will give it to you, but you have to earn it.'_ He hadn't done anything with that information yet, and so he had heard the whispers when they thought he wasn't listening. No one had ever been so forward about what they all were thinking, knowing that Harry was not someone to be challenged openly. Until now that is. William had seen to that. Inspiration stuck him so suddenly that he almost missed what Reece was saying.

"I understand Sir," she said finally.

"Lucius let her go. We will discuss your punishment in length tomorrow. Now go, all of you."

Grey glared at him as he turned, but they all obeyed when the Dark Lord said nothing different. As soon as they were alone, Harry spoke, "I know what needs to be done my Lord." He quickly told him his plan, and the Dark Lord smiled wickedly.

"Perfect, I didn't think you had something like that in you. I will gather what you need. Give me an hour."

Harry bowed as the Dark Lord left, to put his plan into action.

**Tom's POV**

The soft chatter of his Death Eaters filled the room. They spoke in soft whispers, warily eyeing the boy that was tied to a metal table in the center of a lowered platform. The seats were raised to create a sort of stadium in the center of the manor so everyone had a perfect view of the naked boy surrounded by various instrument. Punishment, as an unspoken rule of his, as always done in private, with no spectators unless they themselves were participating. This however was not his show. He would only be watching tonight. Everything had been set up to his specific instructions.

He schooled his features into a mask of indifference, ignoring the hatred that boiled in his blood as he looked down at the would-be assassin. He had been sent by the Order, much to his surprise. He hadn't thought them capable of sending someone to kill their precious hero. He wished he could have left the boy in agony, but Harry had insisted that William be healed. He had been assured that he would once again be in pain soon enough.

'_How dare he… He not only slept with my consort, but then tried to kill him.'_ He had been lucky that Harry had no died, the boy was fast. He had obviously been trained most of his life in the art of killing. It was clear that if he had not come in when he did, Harry would have died. He would have brought him back, of course, but… The Dark Lord would never admit the moment of sheer panic he had felt as he watched William's blade come down. _'You're getting soft…'_ he told himself absently, knowing it wasn't true. He could still kill the "Chosen One" if it came to it. It would have been difficult, but he could do it.

"My Lord?" the traitor Severus stepped forward cautiously, kneeling before the raised throne that had been set at the highest point of the room.

"Severus?" he drawled, keeping his tone indifferent, bored. He knew he could not trust the man. He knew that he had been working for Dumbledore the entirety of his return. He knew that he was in constant contact with someone who he had yet discover. Despite his best efforts, he had been unable to discover who Severus was truly reporting too. They must be very powerful in order to remain hidden from his detection. All he knew was that it was not the Order, his spies had gave no indication that the Order was contacting anyone other than their own spies (who he routinely fed wrong information).

"My Lord, everyone has gathered for…whatever this is… I don't understand my Lord…" he admitted.

"You will soon see," he replied, turning his attention to the doors as they opened on the far side of the arena like room.

Some laughed, others whispered, while others still gave their upmost respect as Harry Potter entered. He was dressed as if ready to enter the muggle world, black jeans and a red t-shirt. He had no weapons on him as far as the Dark Lord could see, but from experience he knew Harry didn't need them. He hopped Harry wasn't wasting his time. He wasn't convinced the young one was capable of all out torture, or that he even knew how, and he wanted to hear William scream, beg for mercy that would not come. He could see the shock in the boy's eyes, and he tried to talk through the gag in his mouth.

Harry walked silently over to a small stand that had been set beside William's table. He plucked one of many syringes from the pile and held it up as if examining it in the light. The chemical in it was clear, giving no hint as to what it could be. "This," everyone silenced at once, turning all of their attention to him, "is a chemical known as adrenalin. For those of you that do not know, it is secreted by the adrenal glands in times of distress. It increases the heart rate and breathing of the affected while sharpening their focus and at times giving them incredible strength and endurance." He moved suddenly, plunging it deep into William's bare chest and pressing down on the plunger. "In this case, it will prevent you from passing out on me." William's eyes widened, and he strained against the ropes. If the Dark Lord wasn't mistaken, one of them was slipping. Harry didn't seem to notice, and that worried him a bit. However Harry continued his speech.

"This," he held up one of the assorted tools that had been laid out on a large table nearby, "Is a simple dagger." William's hand slipped free, and Harry moved like lightning, stabbing threw his wrist and the metal beneath. William screamed through the gag, "It's going to remind you that there is no hope of escape. Calmly, Harry removed the cloth from between his lips.

"Please. Please, what do you want to know? I'll tell you anything I was sent by my Master. He-he said that the orders came from the Light army and-"

"Shhhh," Harry hissed, lightly pressing a finger to his lips, "I don't care who sent you, or why. He leaned forward so that his lips pressed to his ear, "I just want to hear you scream for me."

William's eyes were wide with fear, showing to much white. He was pleading; the word 'Please' repeated over and over. "These are bolt cutters," Harry continued, holding them up for all to see. He paced over to William's feet, "They're for your toes." Everyone held their breath as Harry lined the shear like objects with the assassin's toes.

The Dark Lord leaned forward slightly; watching, surly he wasn't going to… Harry sliced through each toe one at a time first on his left foot, and then his right. William screamed; his shrill cries echoing around the hall. Several people flinched, other's laughed. One taunted "Is that all you've got Potter?" Harry pulled out his wand and pressed the end to the bleeding stumps where the metatarsals had once been. William's voice broke under the strain of his cries as the wounds were cauterized.

"This," Harry held up a large saw, "Is called a bone saw, it's used for surgery." He started to cut through his feet, left and then right. If his Death Eaters were laughing before, they weren't now. Soon William's feet joined his toes in a large tub. These too were cauterized. The boy's screams were deafening, and the Dark Lord couldn't help but smile at the sound. If fear held the faintest hints of sensualism, this was full on erotic. He enjoyed pain and torture, and this was one of the most beautiful displays he had ever seen.

The show continued like that. Harry would pluck something from the pile, explain its use, and then proceed to cut off a piece of the assassin. His leg at the knee, at the hip. Then the fingers at every joint, the wrists, the elbows the shoulders. Each with a different tool or weapon. He cauterized everything, but still blood soaked the floor, staining the hems of his jeans, his bare feet, and his arms, there was even a smear of it across his cheek. Twice his lover had to stop to administer more adrenalin. Harry's eyes glowed with a sort of inner satisfaction; he was enjoying this.

William screamed all the while, begging at first for mercy, and then for death. He wept, and puked, but never sank into unconsciousness, not even when his cock was cut off with a pair of pipe cutters. Finally, Harry stood beside William's head (he was nothing more than a living head and torso now). Harry hefted a great sword onto his should, and gazed down at the boy who had seduced and tried to kill him. There was perfect silence, save for the sounds of puking form his weaker Death Eaters. Those that had not passed out were losing what was in their stomachs.

William was whimpering, but said nothing. His gaze was empty, broken. Harry looked down at him, meeting his gaze. "I considered leaving you like this." he said, his words reaching every ear, "A testament to what I am capable. But you taught me a valuable lesson William Pence. For that, I give you death." With one move he took William's head, slicking threw the third and fourth vertebrae with ease. He gazed down at this handy work for a moment, before picking up the head by the hair. He held it aloft, letting the blood run down his arm, "Let this be a warning, to any and all who defies my Lord, to all who think I am nothing but a weak war hero of the Light, to all who think I am incapable of killing. If anyone crosses my path as he did you will receive worse treatment, and you will be left alive. I am my Lord's Death," he announced, looking into Voldemort's eyes, as if daring him to object. The Dark Lord only nodded for him to continue, "If you are found to be a spy or a traitor, you will end up like Mister William Pence." In one move he tossed the head, where it landed gracefully into Shean Grey's lap. His vomit mixed with the blood on his pants.

It was perfect, the Dark Lord realized. Harry, in one act, had not only shown his loyalty to the Dark Lord, but showed his own power, his own ruthlessness, while retrieving his revenge. He couldn't think of a better way to do all of that, if not this. Harry bowed once to him, and the Dark Lord nodded slowly, his eyes burning with equal parts appreciation and need. Without another word, Harry left the room, creating bloody footprints as he exited, his head held high.

**Severus's POV**

Severus waited on the very edge of the Malfoy grounds. It was getting cool as October approached. The potion's master blew in his hands to warm them, and waited. She said she would come tonight, but by his watch she was late. There was the softest rustling behind him, and he turned, raising his wand. It was only a rabbit. He relaxed only slightly.

"Jumpy as always Severus," she laughed, stepping from between the trees.

"You're late," he snapped, "If I don't hurry, they will realize I'm gone. What did you have to see me so badly."

She laughed again and plucked a leaf from a nearby tree, "You have a good thirty minutes before anyone realizes you're missing," she paused and watched as a light came on in one of the bedrooms, "Things are not going as I expected. There was a one in a million shot that this would happen, and it did."

"What do you mean?" he hated when she did this. She claimed to know everything, but she rarely said anything about her plans.

"Neither of them realize what's at stake, what they share." She continued as if not hearing him. "If they do not then the Dark Lord will lose this war, and all will be lost."

"What is it damn it!" he nearly shouted. He flinched at the volume of his own voice, and said again, "What do you need me to do."

"You need to go to the Dark Lord and suggest that he try and bring Harry over to his side." She said finally.

"I don't understand, isn't he?"

"Yes. No."

"Which is it, yes or no?"

"Both," she admitted softly, "He will obey, but he doesn't share the views of his Master. If he does not all is lost."

"So what must I do?" he asked anxiously. He had only a few minutes left in the thirty she had told him of.

"You must convince the Dark Lord to show Harry the truth." Her eyes never left the lighted window.

"How?" Severus demanded, his impatience was getting the best of him.

"I can't tell you," she turned her eyes to him with a smile.

"Why the hell not?" he snapped, "You always do this to me damn you. You give me an Order and then refuse to explain why or how," he seized her shoulders suddenly, shaking her lightly, "I need to know."

"Oh Severus," she lightly kissed his cheek, as one friend may do to another, "If I told you everything, you would lose your heart, and never do what needs to be done. Just trust me; I have the best interest of man-kind in mind." The light clicked off and her eyes went blank, "Go. Now. Tell him now that he must show Harry the truth in the morning. Now Severus. You're actions are our only hope."

With that she was gone. Shaking his head, Severus obeyed, there was no point in arguing with the girl; she always claimed to know best.

_**Thank you for reading Everyone! Sooo what do you think? There's a review box down below here to tell me, please use it. The next chapter will be our mysterious puppet master's "truth." I love you all!**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_


	14. Duel

_**Hello Everyone!**_

_**So yeah… the two week wait… FanFiction Lover, I wish I could have gone into more detail, but it was late, I had an 8:00 class in the morning and I had to make a decision to either give you guys a chapter Sunday night, or wait and have it come god knows when. When I go back through and edit once I'm finished, I will likely be elaborating on the sweet sweet torture. Also, I can say 100% that it's not Lily, I would have done that, but I couldn't figure out a realistic reason why A) she's alive and B) why she didn't reveal herself to her son for 25+ years. I won't tell you who she is, but you will find out eventually. Gabi: If you have any guesses, feel free to ask. I'm curious as to who you all think is our puppetmaster is. 107602: Yes, William survived until the end. There was no way Harry was going to let him die before he was ready. ChibiAyane: I wish y'all could have seen what I had in my head; it was truly gruesome. Shadoween: Oh yeas it hurt and the Dark Lord will try and convince him, but that brings me to my next point… I'm going out of order a bit. Instead of the convincing, I'm going to proceed with the duel. That being said… WARNING: If you don't know what my warnings mean by now then you probably shouldn't be on chapter thirteen, please go back to chapter one. Don't worry, I'll wait for you. *taps foot, looks at watch* ok ready now? Good.**_

_**I don't own Harry Potter!**_

_**Enjoy!**_

_**~Angelia**_

**Chapter Thirteen: Duel**

**Harry's POV**

The sun beat down bright, hot on the back of his neck. He paced slowly down the line of his kneeling students. They were all dressed the same: soft black pants and shirts that covered everything. They each wore a scarf, wrapped around their heads, leaving only empty eyes visible. They wore not shoes, nor gloves. Weapons glistened silver or gold, set off by the blackness of the outfit. They were dressed to kill, and knelt in complete silence, heads down, hands in their laps, perfectly still.

It was unsettling.

It was exactly what he wanted it to be.

Across the arena-the very one he had killed William in no more than twenty-four hours before-Grey stood with his chosen few. They all stood, dressed casually, in simple black robes. One short of fifty as Reece had taken one of them out of the fight. They were even now with the death of William. They were eyeing his men warily. He paused at the end of the line before pacing back the way he had come.

The softest whispers from the on-lookers hissed in the air.

"_Do you see them? They look a bit ridiculous…"_

"_Shh… Don't you remember what he did to William Pence? He will kill you."_

"…_no better than magic."_

"_My money's on Grey."_

Again Harry paused at the end of the line. Rather than repeat the endless circle, he stood there. He clasped his hands behind his back, and turned his gaze upward to where the Dark Lord sat. After his performance, the Dark Lord had come to him at last. He had taken him into his bed once more, leaving Harry more than a little sore. It was so different that William had been, rougher, filled with more primal energy than the assassin. Their eyes met and Harry nodded only slightly.

The Dark Lord stood, and the hall silenced immediately. "Welcome," his voice echoed through the room, amplified by magic. Harry shivered at the raw power that spread over the crowd, commanding their attention, their loyalty. "We have gathered you here this day to celebrate the time honored tradition of the duel. As you all are well aware, a challenge has been set. Harry Potter has proposed that he is better equipped to train my army. He believes that his…muggle tactics are more effective than our magic. He will prove it or suffer the consequences." The Dark Lord's eyes bore down on Harry's and his blood froze in his veins. That had not been a part of the original deal, but if he failed now, there would be pain.

"The rules are simple. There will be no killing, anyone caught attempting to end the life of their opponent will answer to me. You may prove that you could have killed them, but if any lasting damage is done you will suffer for it. I cannot afford to lose any more soldiers." He paused, letting his words sing in. "Potter. Grey. To the center."

Harry moved smoothly forward, the marble cool against his bare feet. He was distinguishable from his students only by his hair. Where his opponent had taken to dressing extravagantly to stand apart from his men, Harry was dressed to kill. His eyes were hard as they glared out from his scarf. The two men met in the center. Harry offered his hand first, squeezing Grey's hand a little harder than necessary.

"No matter what you prove here Potter," the other man hissed stepping closer, "You'll always be the whore that managed to fuck his way into the Dark Lord's favor."

"This coming from you Grey? You didn't talk so brave when you were vomiting all over William's head last night." Harry responded coolly, satisfied when the older man paled. Before he could say any more, Harry turned and went back to the sidelines. He stood behind the first in the row and waited.

There was a soft whistle and Harry lightly touched their shoulder. They took their place opposite from their opponent. They took their stance and Harry knew immediately that this fight was lost. His student- a man by the name of Herek- was not fast enough to go up against his opponent- a woman who boasted her ability to use wordless magic faster than any other. There was a tense silence as everyone held their breath, waiting. Again there was a soft whistle, followed by a flash of light. In less than a second it was over; Herek knelt, his hands over his face. He let out a cry of pain as he body trembled. Beneath his fingers, Harry could see blood. Two witches rushed forward as the woman resumed her place on her side. They seized Herek and half drug him off the field.

Harry could see that he was shaking as more lacerations appeared on his body. He couldn't help be feel impressed. She had managed to take him out faster than he thought possible. He eyed the healers warily as he took his place behind the never person in line. He could hear the soft murmurs of the crowd. They were already questioning him and it had only been one battle. Surly he trained them better than this, he could hear them accuse. He ignored them. The blood was quickly cleaned from the arena with a wave of a wand, and again everyone waited.

Like before, when the whistle blew, he lightly touched his student's shoulder. It as another man, Jeffery. He was fast, and would win if-

The whistle blew and Jeffery swept forward. His opponent dodged his attack. She tried to hit him with a binding curse, but he was already moving, his leg coming up to smash into her knee. There was a sickening crunch and a scream as the woman collapse. Just like that the battle was over.

"Very good Jeffery," Harry said softly.

The man bowed, "Thank you Sir." His voice was muffled by the scarf, and he resumed his kneeling position.

The dueling continued much like that. He would send one of his men out, knowing immediately not only who they were, but if they stood a chance. The spectators reacted more as the battles continued on. At first there were sounds of disbelief or of anger when one of his bested one of Grey's, but every so often he would catch an awed comment when one of them did something particularly spectacular. He lost as many as he won; Grey's were good, fast thinking and adaptive. He was impressed by their ability to improvise. He was beginning to realize that the Dark Lord had been winning on more than ruthlessness alone. Reece had nearly lost her right arm during her duel with a wizard the others called the Hound. He had managed to cast an illusion spell that created several duplicates of himself. Had Reece not seen through it at the last moment she would have lost.

Throughout the entirety of the duel, the Dark Lord had remained silent. His expression remained completely blank, giving away nothing about how he was feeling. The only time his expression ever changed was when Harry and Sean had finally stepped into the center. He shifted his weight ever so slightly, leaning forward. He eyes glowed with curiosity.

It had been agreed by both of them that they would conclude the dueling: master vs. master. It would prove the true power of both sides. Harry rolled his shoulders slowly forcing his body to relax. Seconds passed. He had never heard so many people sit in complete silence. Harry could feel his mind already narrowing, the familiar machine-like quality that he had adopted when he was on the front lines taking hold.

Wait for it.

One.

Two.

Whistle.

Strike.

He moved like lightning. Sensing rather than seeing the spell, he dodged to the right.

Move.

Right.

Left.

Draw.

He drew one of the blades on his wrist, dodging as another spell flew past his left ear.

Closer.

So close.

Gone.

He turned suddenly. Sean had apparated several feet behind him.

Fuck.

He threw himself down as a torrent of flames licked the air above him.

Roll.

On your feet.

He neared him again.

Feign Right.

Strike left.

Kick.

"_**Remember if you ever feel the need to kick above the knee, you may as well but the blade through your own chest because you're dead."**_

He ignored the words of his master.

Miss.

He twisted to regain his balance.

Sweat flowed down his cheeks. It was soaked up by the scarf-keeping it out of his eyes.

Dodge.

Strike.

Strike.

Strike.

He had Sean in a corner. He lashed out again.

A spell hit his wrist.

His arm went numb. The dagger clattered to the ground. He drew another with his left hand.

Kick up.

His foot connected with Sean's wrist, sending his wand flying.

The other man grabbed his now extended leg. His hand connected with the skin of his foot. Pain shot up his leg. Harry cried out, his body convulsing in pain. He collapsed, grabbing onto Sean as he did. He rode the other man to the ground. His forearm pressed to his throat. Sean's hands came up to connect with his face, growing hot. Harry pressed down as pain shot through his head. He was on the verge of passing out, but he didn't let up.

"Enough."

Harry pulled back, and Sean's hands dropped away. They turned their gaze to the now standing Dark Lord. "Impressive, both of you. It seems we have no true winner. Mister Potter, your student's won the most duels; however you Mister Grey have a remarkable talent for teaching and have proven your abilities in battle." He paused, looking down at them both. "Any who wish to join Harry Potter in his teachings may. They will make up a specialized unit. All others may study under Sean Grey." His eyes flashed, daring either of them to argue.

"Yes my Lord," they replied in unison.

Harry turned his gaze back to his opponent. He said nothing as he stood slowly, offering the older man his hand. Sean looked from it to Harry's face before cautiously accepting. Harry held it for a moment, nodding slightly. He had never fought anyone like that; he respected Sean Grey. He was a formidable opponent.

Without another word they turned and went in opposite directions. They would never like each other, but there was a mutual respect in place. Harry's men rose as he approached, "Sir," they said as one, standing at attention.

Harry nodded once, "Dismissed all of you. We will meet on the training grounds tomorrow morning." He bowed once to the Dark Lord before exiting, feeling empty-more at peace- than he had in a long time.

Harry sighed deeply as the hot water ran down his back. Despite his best efforts the sort of numb peace had clung to him, refusing to dissipate as the hours passed. It was now late in the evening, the manor was still and silent, and he still felt hallow. He mauled over his theory as he washed his hair. That was the first time-save for his failed battle with William-that he had been in combat in well over a year. War had been a part of his life for five years, not having to worry about it had thrown him off. He would have to talk to the Dark Lord about that, perhaps he would allow him to resume his life as a soldier. He had missed it, the mindless way in which he fought.

When he had washed, Harry wrapped himself in a towel and returned to his room to collapse on his bed. He threw one arm over his eyes, his body relaxing in degrees. When had he started enjoying killing exactly? At first the war had been difficult on him, seeing death had upset him to no end. Back then he had only used magic, often times using disarming spells rather than killing ones. He could still remember the first time he had actually killed someone in the heat of battle. The boy had been his age-no more than eighteen-and he had come at him his lips already forming the words that would end Harry's life. Harry had struck first. The words _Avada Kedavra _burned on his lips that first time. It had been easier after that. Somewhere along the line he had started enjoying it. And then he had met Runcore, and he had taught him a new way of killing.

He needed to be back out there. On impulse, Harry stood. His feet carried him towards the largest bedroom at the end of the hall. He knocked without hesitation, realizing only after the door had creaked open that he was still in nothing but a towel.

"Harry?" the Dark Lord asked confused. He was still dressed, in the dark suit he had been wearing earlier, but had taken on his true form. The cold expression looked out of place on his god-like face. The Dark Lord's crimson eyes roamed up and down his body once before he grabbed Harry suddenly, pulling him into the room and all but slamming the door. "Do tell me why you were standing out in the hallway naked," he demanded. His eyes roamed over Harry's body hungrily, his tone full of lust rather than the anger he would have normally displayed.

"I need…" Harry gasped as Voldemort's lips descended on his throat, lightly biting and sucking down from his ear. "I wanted…" A low groan pulled from his lips as the Dark Lord's hands plunged into his still wet hair, pulling his head to the side so to give him better access to his throat. "My Lord…" Harry abandoned his question, not that he could remember what it had been now.

With his face still buried in his neck, the Dark Lord raked his nails down Harry's chest, stopping at the top of the towel. The cloth fell away as the Dark Lord took hold of his already hard cock. He thrust against his long, expert fingers, tilting his head back as pleasure washed through him. He pulled at the Dark Lord's clothes, wanting to feel his bare skin when he took him. He moaned loudly as the Dark Lord pumped him, squeezing him hard as he jacked him off. Harry managed to get half of the buttons on his shirt undone before the Dark Lord paused. Harry made a sound of protest as his hands left his cock to take hold of his hands. The Dark Lord gathered both of Harry's hand in one of his, pressing them behind him to the small of his back. It was an unspoken rule-Harry was not allowed to touch his Master.

The Dark Lord bound his hands behind him before tossing his clothes unceremoniously aside. He moved so that he was standing behind Harry, lightly wrapping his hand around his throat as he walked the younger man forward. Harry found his face pressed to the soft green fabric of the Dark Lord's bed. The scent of whatever they had been washed in filled his nose as Voldemort nudged his legs apart with one of his feet. The magical bonds were released and the Dark Lord's hand pressed to the back of Harry's neck, "Hands above your head," he commanded.

"Yes Master," Harry gasped, grinding his hips lightly against the Dark Lord. The words were instinctive. He knew it what was what his Master wanted. He enjoyed the control, the dominance…almost as much as Harry enjoyed the submission. This was the biggest difference from any other experience he had ever had. There was nothing expected of him, no decision to make, not thoughts to think except for pleasing the man that was now holding his arms above his head.

"Keep them there. You will be punished if you move them." The Dark Lord informed him. He slid two long fingers into Harry's ass, making him squirm.

"Yes Master," Harry moaned, his fists clenching in the blankets. He felt the Dark Lord's cock replace his fingers suddenly, making Harry nearly scream in pleasure. He reached back wanting to feel more than his Master's hands on his hips, and the Dark Lord _tsked_ softly.

He thrust roughly into him suddenly; gathering up Harry's wondering hands and pressing them to the mattress with one of his own. "I told you to keep these up here," he grunted as he thrust in and out of his pet.

"Forgive me Sir," Harry moaned as the Dark Lord hit the small bundle of nerves with every thrust.

Voldemort thrust harder, enjoying the cries of the man under him. His hand came down suddenly on Harry's ass, causing him to let out a sound that wasn't entirely pained.

"Sir…" Harry gasped, rather than recoiling he thrust against his Master. The sharp sting had faded into warmth. The Dark Lord's hand came down again a few more times; never hitting the exact same place twice. Harry was begging now, already so close. He could feel his orgasm building, and he pressed his face into the bed. Just as he teetered on the edge, the Dark Lord's fingers curled tightly around the base of his cock, squeezing.

"Not yet," he hissed in his ear.

Harry cried out, his senses shot from being so close to completion only to have it denied. "Please," he begged, throwing his head back, "Please my Lord."

The Dark Lord didn't let up; he kept up his relentless pace. Harry couldn't think, couldn't breathe past the all-consuming desire that coursed through his blood. He would have said anything, given anything in that moment if it meant release. He could see nothing by white; his ears were filled with the roaring of his blood, and the deafening moans of pleasure that fell from his lips. After what seemed like an eternity the Dark Lord's steady pace became erratic, and his hands clamped tightly around Harry's waist. No sooner did his Master's fingers release him did Harry come. He screamed his release, his vision going completely white as he came hard, spilling his seed onto the side of the bed. Only seconds after, did he become awe that the Dark Lord too had found his completion. The heat that filled his lower half was normally uncomfortable, but at the moment, all Harry was concerned with was catching his breath.

He didn't react save for a small whine when the Dark Lord pulled out of him. He couldn't move as he was lifted and gently laid on the bed. He body instinctively curled around itself as his breathing slowed. Harry was only vaguely aware of something being draped over him. He knew there was something he needed to ask, something he needed to do, but the darkness that fluttered on the edges of his mind beckoned. Too tired to fight it, Harry let the darkness claim him, sinking into a deep sleep.

_**Thank you for reading Everyone! Sooooo any comments? This is the most graphic sex scene I've ever written for a fic, and I'd like to know if you want more like this. I hope this makes up for my not posting last week. Let me know what you think! The next chapter will be…something. I have an idea I think.**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_


	15. War

_**Hello Everyone!**_

_**Just to clear up some things: Harry's men weren't good enough to actually win. They have only been training for a month, so they're still inexperienced. They will get better-trust me. FanFiction Lover: I'm glad you liked the duel; I had so much fun writing it! I can't wait to see what everyone thinks of this chapter. ChibiAyane: you seem to be part of the overwhelming group that thinks Harry-Voldy sexy-time was a good idea…good, because if there's not any this chapter there will be next. This chapter is still not Harry truly coming over to the Dark Lord's side, but it is a battle scene. WARNING: violence and possible sex.**_

_**Enjoy**_

_**~AR**_

**Chapter Fourteen: War**

**Harry's POV**

He moved soundlessly though the shadows, he body tensed and ready to strike. To his left he could sense other's moving too, crouched, waiting. They were waiting for his signal. He neared the edges of the wards and lifted his wand. These were nowhere near as advanced as the ones that he had dismantled before he had been taken, and he could feel the unmistakable trace of Hermione's magic. The wards dropped suddenly and they rushed forward as one, just before they were fixed back into place.

Harry paused behind a small clump of bushes as two sentries marched past. According to the information he had been given, sentries passed every five minutes in pares. He made a slight signal with his hand and there was the softest rustling as someone moved forward. No more than forty and a half minutes later could the sound of chatting be heard. Harry waiting, holding his breath, they walked past.

One step.

Two.

He clicked his tongue.

Two shadows tore free from the darkness, grabbing the men with no more sound than a gurgling as they died. He nodded once and they moved forward again. The camp was still, most of its residence sleeping soundly, oblivious of him and his men slipping though the darkness. The air was cool on the little bit of exposed skin around his eyes, and the moon and stars were blotted out completely by heavy clouds. They repeated the slaying of sentries as they moved deeper into the Order's camp, until they had reached the first line of resident tents. Harry paused, signaling for them to gather around. Within seconds fifty shadows had soundlessly gather around him.

"Reece, Grode, Fletcher. With me. Everyone else spread out, wait for my signal," his words were hardly more than a breath of air, but he had no doubt that he had been heard. As he and three other's slithered through the darkness, he couldn't help but feel a familiar thrill of excitement as they neared the command tent.

It had been surprisingly easy to convince the Dark Lord to allow him to lead a raid against a nearby Order camp. The sweet ache in his lower half stood as a reminder of what they had done the night before. When he had woken, he was alone. What had he expected? The Dark Lord was not the type to cuddle after sex. He had been in a dark room done up in dark greens and blacks, the dark wood floor reflecting the miniscule light. Shadows stood watch, deep in the corners. The ceiling seemed to go on forever, giving the Dark Lord's room the feel of being at the bottom of a dark hole. From what he could see, the room was little more than the bed he was sitting on. There was a wardrobe in the corner to his right, and a door that led to what he assumed to be the bathroom. There was no other furniture other than a pair of twin nightstands on either side of the bed, and no personal artifacts to be seen. The room was sparkling clean, even the Dark Lord's clothes from the night before had been picked up and discarded already. He had showered and dressed quickly before going to hunt out his master. He had found him poring over war plans. It had been no simple matter to ask the Dark Lord for a favor. Fear had almost stopped him. In the end the Dark Lord had allowed him and his fifty to infiltrate the camp they were now in. They had been instructed to take the leader, and leave him alive; it was thought that he could be brought over to their side. They were only allowed to kill that which was necessary.

Harry paused just outside the circle of light that surrounded the large tent. This was the only one with light still burning outside, all other's had been extinguished long before.

"Reece-left. Grode-right. Fletcher-back. The bedroom will be towards to the left of the war room in the center. Stand guard and make sure no one interrupts my retrieving him."

They all nodded once before heading their separate directions. Harry crouched low as he entered the front: dispatching the two guards that stood at the center before moving on. He passed few others as he neared the bedroom of Mister Henry Warren. He had taken over when Flitwick had perished two years ago. He was old, apparently a member of the first Order of the Phoenix. More than once he had told Harry of his parent's bravery, and that they would be so proud of their son.

Harry opened to door slowly, and found the man with his back to him. Warren sat at a desk, scribbling wildly in a journal. Harry crept forward, hardly daring to breath. He drew the gun under his left arm and pressed it to the back of the older man's head. The man stiffened as the gun breeched his nest of white hair. "If you so much as make a sound I will kill you."

The man said nothing as he lifted his hands in the air.

"Turn," Harry instructed softly.

Warren turned. His eyes widening as he recognized Harry's voice. "Potter?" He gasped. "I had heard the rumors but-" Harry prodded him sharply with the barrel of his gun and his words ran dry.

"Out the back," he commanded, pointing to the door across the room from the one he had entered. They passed a cloaked figure who Harry could only assume was Reece and two dead guards. Warren paled but said nothing. They made their way through the labyrinth hallways that made up the manor-like tent. How had Harry not noticed the run-down look of the Order? Living in the Malfoy manor had given him an eye for the extravagant; he hadn't realized the state that the Order was in. Everything looked warn from over use, the carpets and tapestries threadbare with the faintest aroma of age. The Order was in a sad state.

They passed no one on their way out; Reece had done her job and taken care of anyone who could have stopped them. When they finally exited, Harry nodded at Reece. She lifted her wand to the heavens and sent up a blast of red sparks. Perhaps thirty seconds passed, before the sound of fighting reached their ears. The rest he had brought were instructed to begin rounding up the rest of the camp. It was a small one, and should pose little problems for fifty specially trained soldiers.

Warren glared at him as Harry absently unwrapped the scarf around his head. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. "In about five minutes, you will announce your surrender to the Dark Lord Voldemort. You will demand that your soldiers lay down their wands and submit without any farther fight. Do you understand?" His voice was perfectly empty. He felt nothing, save for a small pang of regret that he had not been part of the now slowing fray.

He eyed the gun warily. "Your parents would be ashamed."

"My parents are dead, they feel nothing for this," Harry said simply, prodding Warren's forward, towards the sound of two hundred gathered.

"If they knew what you've become-"

"I did nothing that anyone else would have done had they been in my place." There was a cry of outrage as they came into view of the rest of the camp. His men had gathered up everyone it seemed, with only a few causalities. Most had been caught unaware, disabled before they had a chance to realize what was going on. Now they all stood, their eyes filled with a sort of disbelief.

Was he truly _the_ Harry Potter that had fought at their side before? Hadn't he died? That had been the rumor after all. Harry Potter had died a hero, never reveling anything about the Order. Harry shook his head, and put away his gun. His men paced around the edge of the crowd ready to act; he didn't need it out. Before he could move, Harry took hold of Warren's wrist, twisting it behind his back, "Forward," he hissed in his ear.

They stepped up on a small, raised platform that was often used to relay information to the soldiers at one time. Reece followed him silently, instinctively falling to his right side. He could feel the tension building, the fire in his former comrade's eyes flaring to life. "Fighting would be useless," Harry's voice carried over the crowd, "I have taken your leader, and you are surrounded. Any opposition will be met with swift death." Every eye was on him now, some with a glint of betrayal and others with an almost blind trust. No matter what, he was still Harry Potter, still their hero. "This camp has been taken for the Dark Lord; you will all bow to him, and accept his ruling of the wizarding world. Those of you that wish it will be allowed to join his army, and those that do not will be allowed to return to their family homes."

"We will never bow to him!" A voice broke free from the toneless murmurs, exciting a sort of war cry.

Harry nodded once, and one of his men grabbed the rebel that had spoken and drug him to the front. Harry released Warren, trusting Reece to keep an eye on him and stepped forward. Harry nodded again and the man was forced to his knees facing the Order. Making sure everyone was watching, Harry drew his gun and pressed it to the back of his head. A crack filled the air, followed by the silence of the dead. "If anyone else would like to shun the Dark Lord's mercy, please, by all means speak up." There was silence. "I am no longer the Harry Potter that stood with you in battle; I will kill anyone who steps out of line. Your tents have already been searched, all wands and any method of contacting anyone outside of this camp has been removed. Anyone caught trying to escape or send word to the Order will be killed." He turned his gaze to Warren, lifting his eyebrows. "I will kill one man for every minute you refuse to answer," he said so that only he could hear.

The man gave him a look of pure disgust, but slowly knelt, "I surrender," he whispered softly.

Harry nodded, and commanded with an air of indifference, "Take him back to his tent, and prepare him for interrogation."

He stayed where he was, watching as his prisoners were rounded up by fours and distributed among his shadows. No one fought, no one resisted they just allowed themselves to be led back to their tents. And here he had thought he would have had to kill more than one to get his point across. When it was done, Harry made his way back to the commander's tent. He nodded at Grode and Fletcher where they stood on either side of the door.

"They're in the conference room Sir," Grode informed him. He had removed his mask and his blonde hair flopped over his large, square face as he nodded in the direction they had gone.

"Thank you." Harry's feet made now sound on the worn carpet as he entered the room. It was an exact replica of the one he had sat in while advising the Order's counsel, a long table with a map spread over it. Even as he watched, a snake took a phoenix. They had won this battle. Bound to the right of the head of the table was Warren. His eyes were alive with fire, and he strained against the ropes that bound his hands behind his back and his legs to the legs of the chair. Reece had even taken the time to gag him so that the only sound he made was a muffled grunting sound that Harry supposed could pass for insults. The woman stood behind him, her eyes perfectly empty, awaiting his instructions.

Harry said nothing at first; he simply paced around the room until he reached the battered desk in the corner. He knelt, his eyes meeting Warren's, as he pressed on the false bottom of the third drawer. Harry _tsk_ed softly, drawing out a small stack of papers, tied neatly together. "And here I though the Order was smart enough to realize they needed to change their hiding places after someone who knows about it is captured." He stalked back towards the bound man, absently scanning the information on the Order's spies-where they were located, the information they had relayed. The files had everything but their names; instead there was a random jumble of numbers and letters. Harry shook his head in disgust and went over the one of the bookshelves. He found immediately what he was looking for. "Hogwarts: A History." He read aloud. His fingers flew through the pages, and within minutes he had decoded out a sort list of fifteen spies that they had not known about.

Harry turned to Reece, ignoring the desperate struggles of his prisoner. He handed over the sheet of paper, watching as she read. "That is a list of spies. They should have been dead yesterday."

She nodded once, "Consider it done."

Harry watched as she left before turning back to Warren. He leaned against the table crossing his arms. They stood there, staring at each other for several seconds. Harry sauntered forward, removing the rag.

"You bastard," Warren snarled, his struggles doubling, "You truly have turned your back on everyone you loved. Your parents would be ashamed! What would Dumbledore say if he knew how far you had fallen?"

Harry hit him. It was lightly, hardly more than a tap, but it got his attention, "Shut up and listen," he said, glancing around the room, "I don't have long." His voice came out urgent, rushed. "I've betrayed nothing, in the morning there will be several hundred of the Dark Lord's soldiers here and my men and I will be called back. This is your only chance. The names I gave Gwen were fake. I need you to go to the smaller camps and warn them that there will be fifty assassins coming in a few days' time."

"I don't-"

"I said shut up. I know there are secret camps, but I'm sure they've been moved. Yes? Good, go to them, and warn them that I may be coming for them. Tell everyone you see that Harry Potter has not given up on their cause." He was breathing hard, his eyes wide. He drew a blade and promptly cut away the ropes that bound him. "Go now before dawn."

"So you're…"

"Consider me a spy of sorts," Harry replied, his voice filled with its old conviction. The other man could see it; feel that Harry Potter had not broken. "There will be no guards on the south side of camp."

"Yes," he made for the door, "Thank you, Harry. I didn't think you would betray us."

Harry nodded once and watched him leave. He waited five minutes to ensure that his orders to leave the south side unguarded. When he was sure Warren had escaped, he went to the desk and wrote a short letter.

_The trap has been set. He will lead us right to them. You will be receiving fifteen spies' heads tomorrow. We will continue on in the morning._

_HP_

He sealed it and attached it to the leg of the large barn owl that sat in the corner. He smiled slightly as the creature took off, delivering the good news to his Master. It felt good to be back.

_**Thank you for reading Everyone! Sooo what do you think? I hope you understand what happened, if not I can explain. I'm sorry if this chapter isn't the best (and that there was no sex) but next chapter will be better. I love you all so much! Can't wait to hear from you!**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_


	16. Return

_**Hello Everyone!**_

_**I am so sorry for taking so long to update. I went home last weekend, and let's just say my mother isn't very approving of my writing. I'll try and be better about that. 107602: Trust me Love, the war is far from over. I've got plans, big big plans. We'll actually be getting into the beginning of them in this chapter. FanFiction Lover: You're going to like this chapter, I think…or not, idk you'll see what I mean. FireAndPowder: Welcome to the fic! I hope to hear from you again in the coming chapters! Now this chapter is hopefully going to make up for the wait, but again, you'll see! That being said… WARNING: Chapter fifteen and I still have to warn people of sex. I shouldn't have to, but it's better than not having it.**_

_**I don't own Harry Potter!**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_

**Chapter Fifteen: Return**

**Harry's POV**

Six. In the past five days they had managed to occupy six of the Order's camps. The Dark Lord's plan was working perfectly. They had traced Henry Warren to three of those using a spell Hermione had invented several years before. It put a magical trace on an effected individual that lingered everywhere they stopped for more than thirty seconds. The other three had been ferreted out through swift and skillful interrogation. Spies of the Order had been falling left and right, already another fifteen had been added to the first, and he had three of his men tracking down twenty others.

All was going well

Harry wiped his hands on the towel that hung at his belt and stepped back from the Order leader. His head hung low, a soft wheezing coming from his broken, blood-clotted nose and blood pooled crimson in his lap from various splits in his face. He hadn't lasted long, caving after only the fourth punch. Harry nodded to the hooded Death Eaters that stood guard by the door. They had heard all of the information, and they knew their orders without having to be told.

As soon as they were alone, Harry scooped up a cloth he had soaking in potion and dabbed it to his face. As part of the Dark Lord's orders he was to act like he had not broken for the time being, as if he were really trying to help the poor wretches that were the Order. It was perfect. It allowed him to get more information than he would have if he had acted the part of the Dark Lord's servant, while also planting the seeds that would help him bring over more of the Order's soldiers. It was perfect.

"Tell me the truth; I know that you know of other camps, other spies that you didn't tell me before. I just want to keep them safe Thorne." He rinsed out the cloth, and went back to healing his wounds. "Let me help you. I'm not who you think I am," he looked the man in his eye, "I've been doing everything in my power to defy the Dark Lord without him finding out. It's why I had to hurt you. I'm sorry." The words fell familiar from his lips. He had been repeating them at every camp he visited, and as always the man told him everything he knew. Harry made a mental note as to the general location of the camps, "Thank you, I'll send letters to them all with a warning." He stood to leave, "Someone will be in shortly to care for you."

After he had left, Harry made his way down to the command center of this camp. He wrote down the locations of each of the five "hidden" ones he had gotten and sent them off to the Dark Lord. He would decide what to do with them from there. This was so different than his time with the Order. That had mostly been sitting around waiting for the Dark Lord to come for them, always defending too afraid to actively attack Voldemort's army outright.

Shortly after winning the battle for Hogwarts, Voldemort had spread his reach to other countries. He had effectively established a power base in every major wizarding country on Earth. The Order had done the same, recruiting rebels from every corner of the globe. They had already been driven out of China and Russia while Italy and Germany were soon to fall. It wouldn't be much longer until the Dark Lord had won this war. The only problem was the Order was still going strong on the front lines.

Hogwarts still stood as a refuge for the young and injured. The Dark Lord had yet to take it permanently. Children and families that had nothing to do with the war were being sheltered there, and if rumors were to be believed, there were still classes. Harry had visited his former home several years ago, and had been greeted with awe. There wasn't a person there that hadn't known he was fighting for them. He wondered how he would be accepted now. It was almost ironic. He had fallen so far from the hero he had once been. He now belonged to the Dark Lord now, killed and tortured in the Dark Lord's name. Harry James Potter, the Chosen one had died nearly two months ago and a puddle of his own piss and blood and the Dark Lord's cum. He could still remember the moment he gave up…

Harry shook his head to banish the poisonous thoughts. He didn't need to be thinking about who he had once been; it would only cause him unnecessary pain. Instead he collapsed into the soft armchair, sitting down for the first time in what felt like forever. He and his fifty-Shadow they had been named by the rest of the Death Eaters- had been here for three days, awaiting reinforcements so that they could move on. Earlier that day, three prisoners had "escaped" with the knowledge that there were nearly a thousand soldiers that would be here by this evening, adding to the already large number that was already here. He knew the news would get back to the Order, and if his prediction was right, the camp was so small that they would not attack out of fear of losing men. It was a gamble, they could attack anyway and if that was the case then he would be greatly outnumbered.

Absently he ran his finger down the bridge of his nose. When he had not been dealing with trivial matters that came with occupying a camp, he had been working on breaking the enchantments that hid the camp's secretes. He had stumbled upon a bit of luck with this one; it was the central hub for the Order's spy network. He hadn't even known it had existed, and everything was encoded in such a way that perhaps only Hermione could break. He pulled the stacks of parchment towards him and went back to work. It seemed to be an assortment of random lines, with no pattern that he could see. He had tried every bit of code-breaking magic he knew and dug through any book he could get his hands on. He knew that the leader's journal was likely the key to figuring this out. All of the Order's higher officials were required to keep one. The only problem was finding it.

Harry was glaring at the illegible writing when there was a knock at the door. "Enter," he snapped, never looking up.

"Sir?"

"This had better be important," he set aside the parchment to turn his gaze to the obviously frightened soldier.

"It is Sir. The Dark Lord wishes your return. Reinforcements have arrived, and he wishes that you and your men return to the manor now."

Harry spoke softly, his voice full of ice, "He what?"

"H-he sent me to tell you that you and your men are expected back at the manor in five minutes, and if you linger longer than that _he_ will come and get you himself…Sir." The last he added hastily, flinching when Harry approached him.

"Thank you." His voice was still cold. If he had the capacity for it he would have been pissed. But he didn't, and he had been given a direct order by his master. All he could do was obey. So he went around the camp, rounding up his men before appearating back to Malfoy Manor.

Nothing. The Dark Lord offered no reason as to why he had called Harry back.

"I have two hundred more waiting for your training. They have already been tested, and are ready to learn what you have to teach. You have two months before I want them combat ready. Fail to do so and I will kill you."

Harry had nodded without comment, knowing that the Dark Lord meant what he had said. He made the threat often. While Harry had yet to fail him, he knew that the Dark Lord would kill him if he did so. He was Harry Potter after all, and was to be held at a higher standard than the rest. He immediately set to work. He enlisted Reece to help him in the task of preparing them. She already acted as his right hand, so it was only natural that she helped him test their untrained skill.

Harry shook his head in disgust as they worked through nearly half of them by nightfall. From what he could tell none of them had any kind of experience in combat; let alone what was needed for his teams. Most of them had never held a knife with the intent to harm someone. He was starting at square one again. If he hadn't known any better he'd say the Dark Lord was testing him.

He could still feel the muted anger at being drug away from the war deep in his chest, but there was nothing he could do about it. The Dark Lord had called and he had answered. His master knew more than he did, of that Harry was sure. He would obey even if he didn't like it. He had learned his lesson, the scars on his body stood testament to that. He was the Dark Lord's property, his slave. _I had to be taught in the most painful way possible that Voldemort is always right; he knows what was best, and I know nothing._ He had come to accept this long ago. He had been difficult to teach, of that the Dark Lord had informed him many times. He hadn't taken to his lesson well, resisting his test for the longest time. It had taken a year for him to submit, and realize that the Dark Lord knew best. Another month had been used to teach him his place, and the Horcrux had been necessary. It had been the only way to kill his stupidity and rebellion. How had he not realized before how wrong he was in fighting? Deep down, the ghost of a thought flickered, and he knew he was justifying his breaking. He knew his former self would be ashamed, yes, but now…well, he was too far gone.

His footsteps made little sound as he made his way across the grass. Shadows were already emerging as the last of the sun's rays died. It was peaceful. At one point he would have been afraid of the darkness, but he welcomed its embrace now. There was nothing but a familiar muted peace. With a sigh, Harry made his way to the racks that had been erected along the side of the manor. Swords and blades of every kind lined the outer walls. The Dark Lord had supplied him with everything he would need for teaching this newest batch of recruits.

"_Harry…"_ a voice whispered in his ear.

He flinched slightly, always unnerved when the Dark Lord entered his mind, _"Yes, my Lord?"_

"_Come to my study."_ The Dark Lord's command was short and sweet, offering nothing that would tell him what he was in for when he arrived.

"_Yes my Lord."_ After storing away the last of his weapons, Harry made his way dutifully to the Dark Lord's chambers.

"My Lord," Harry bowed low as his long strides carried him to the middle of the room.

The Dark Lord motioned for him to sit in the chair across from him, pushing a stack of papers towards Harry as he sat.

Harry read them quickly and without expression. "It seems the few you sent to deal with the other camps have already lost." He fought to keep the smug tone out of his voice.

"So it seems." They Dark Lord regarded him coolly from across the desk.

"Perhaps that means that my men and I should go back out and clean up their mess."

"No. You will remain here as I have commanded you to do."

Harry nodded once, had it been anyone else they would have been angry, but he didn't have enough left in him to feel anger. "Of course my Lord." There was silence between them for the longest moment. "My Lord, if you don't mind me asking, why did you call us back?"

The elder man said nothing; instead he simply sat back, still studying Harry with his cold red eyes. Harry shifted his weight slightly under his probing gaze.

"Come here," he said finally, offering his hand to him.

Harry stood without question, walking slowly around the desk. The Dark Lord scooted his chair back slightly, allowing Harry room to stand between him and the desk. Again his master lapsed back into silence. He was beginning to feel self-conscious with his eyes studying him like that. Just as he was about to ask what it was his Master wanted, the Dark Lord took hold of his wrists, pulling him forward ever so slowly, letting him know his full intention. Harry lifted his legs mechanically as his thighs touched the front of the chair, spreading them so that he was straddling the Dark Lord's lap.

He was immediately aware of the hardness that pressed against his stomach. He met the Dark Lord's heated gaze and lightly ground his hips against him. Voldemort hissed softly and released Harry's wrists, "On your knees," he instructed softly. His crimson gaze was no longer cold; instead it reflected the desire that burned in his blood.

Harry obeyed, sliding gracefully off of the Dark Lord's lap so that he was kneeling between his knees. Immediately he reached for his belt, wanting to feel the Dark Lord filling his mouth, but his pale fingers captured his wrists again. "With your teeth." As always the command was short and emotionless. Harry couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement shoot through his cock as he attempted to undo the Dark Lords pants with nothing but his mouth.

It was more difficult that he had thought it would be. His teeth scraped against his zipper, but in the end he managed to get the Dark Lord's pants unbuttoned. Lifting his gaze, Harry lightly pressed his lips to the exposed shaft of his cock. Voldemort shifted his weight, scooting so that he sprang free, his eyes glowing with desire. Harry held his gaze as his mouth closed over his head, lightly running his tongue along his shaft as he sucked. He couldn't help but feel satisfaction as the Dark Lord's eyes darkened.

It was difficult to get a reaction out of him; they were easy to miss if you weren't paying attention. Harry lightly bobbed his head, maintaining eye contact as he did. He moved down suddenly, stopping just as his head brushed against the back of his throat. Finger found his hair, forcing his cock deep into his throat. Harry gaged, jerking back instinctively, but his palm pressed harder to the back of his head, holding him in place. His eyes watered and bile rose in his throat, but still the Dark Lord held him there. His eyes burned with a sort of cruel satisfaction as he struggled. He was gasping as the hand loosened its grip on his hair, allowing him to move so that his lips hovered less than an inch from the head of his cock.

He was given time to take in a small breath before he was shoved back down. The Dark Lord repeated this process three more times, each time holding Harry's head down until he was sure he would pass out. Despite the abuse (or perhaps because of it) he was painfully hard, his cock straining against the once loose fabric of his training clothes. He moaned softly as the Dark Lord's grip tightened painfully on his hair. He rose first to his knees, and then to his feet, climbing back so that he was straddling his lap.

His hands fell on the waist of his sweats, but like before his hands were captured and held out to the side, preventing him from touching his Master.

"_Rise up,"_ the Dark Lord hissed, squeezing his hands together into one of his.

He lifted his ass, gasping as the Dark Lord took hold of his cock, squeezing him hard through the fabric.

"Fuck! My Lord…" he moaned, thrusting against his hand. His head fell back, his body arching even without direct contact.

The Dark Lord released his hands, but Harry could feel the undeniable prickle of power along his wrists, keeping them bound in front of him. "Stand. Lay across the desk on your back."

"Yes my Lord," he gasped. He climbed unsteadily to his feet, and did as he was told. The documents that had been there before were now spread across the floor. His body trembled as Voldemort stood, drawing his wand. He waved it once, and Harry's hands were forced above him and bound to the desk; he waved it again and his clothes vanished. He was breathing hard, his body begging for contact. The desk was just big enough for his arms to stretch above his head with his knees hanging off of the edge. He lifted his hips in invitation, all but verbally begging for the Dark Lord's cock.

His Master grinned and took hold of his hips, lifting them and pulling hard so that his hips rested just on the edge. His shoulders screamed in protest, and a loud, needy moan pulled from his lips. "Please my Lord."

Without warning, without preparation, the Dark Lord plunged his cock deep in Harry's ass. He screamed in mixed pain and pleasure, his back arching. There was no hesitation, no chance to get used to the feel of him. The Dark Lord drove into him hard, his fingers tightening on his hips, Harry's cock pressed between their stomachs. His head swam, he couldn't move, couldn't think. All he could do was lay there and except the Dark Lord's cock.

"My Lord!" he cried. He could feel blood spilling from his unprepared asshole, but he didn't care. The pain was wonderful. It was one of the Dark Lord's gifts. He could make you enjoy pain, could make you cum and beg for more, even as he tore you apart. Harry screamed again, straining against the magical bonds.

One of the Dark Lord's hands snaked up his chest, pressing down lightly on his throat before raking his nails down his chest hard. Already Harry was close, and he could feel the Dark Lord's cock twitching in him. Again his fingers closed around his cock, pumping him, bringing him so close to the edge. His vision went white and through his own moans he could hear the Dark Lord grunt his release followed by heat spreading through his lower half. Harry tilted his head back, his body jerking, he was so close. Just a little more…

The Dark Lord pulled out of him, letting go of his cock and stepping back. Harry made a sound of protest, opening his eyes to look desperately into the red ones of his Master. "My Lord!" he gasped, throwing his body against the bonds, his eyes pleading.

Voldemort only smiled coolly and zipped up his pants, "What a lovely picture you make here." Harry continued to fight against the magic that held him down, his body begging for release. The Dark Lord rand a finger down his cheek, his eyes glistening with sadistic pleasure. "I think I'll leave you here while I meet with my spies." He made for the door pausing at Harry's cry of protest. He came back, plucking one of Harry's socks from the pile of his clothes. He forced it into his mouth, pressing his lips to his ear, "Shhh, you wouldn't want anyone to come investigate this noise and see you like this. He straightened, gazing down at his bound lover. "This is why I called you back. Now you know how it feels," he hissed.

Confused and incredibly turned on, Harry watched him leave, the soft click of the light going off preceding him.

_**Thank you for reading Everyone! Sooooooo what do you think. I am so sorry for not posting sooner, and I don't feel like this chapter is enough to make up for it. I will do my best to get you all another soon. The next chapter will defiantly be when the Dark Lord truly brings Harry over. It's going to be great. I love you all, and I'm sorry if it's not very good…**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_


	17. Turning

_**Hello Everyone!**_

_**I'm sorry for the wait. I've been so busy lately, I'll try and get chapters out faster. ChaosOrdo-FFL: Congrats on the new account! Please don't die on me; I would be terribly upset if I lost one of my most loyal readers because of boredom. little old nona: Welcome to the club. I'm proud to be your first vodemortXharry, it really is a lovely ship if you ask me. If I told you if you were right or not, it would take away the surprise. You will see in the coming chapters. Guest: I wish I knew who you were so I could answer you, but yes, exactly that. A. : I am confused by your review. If you could please elaborate. Ok with that done it is time for a chapter I have been itching to write, this is where Voldemort truly brings Harry over to his side. This will also begin the set up for the real meat of the story. That being said…sorry no sex in this chapter. **_

_**I don't own Harry Potter.**_

_**~Angelia Reader**_

**Chapter Sixteen: Turning**

**Tom's POV**

"Why do you serve me?"

He mumbled something under his breath without looking up from the papers he was sorting through.

The Dark Lord sighed inwardly as he glided across the room, placing his hands over Harry's to get his attention.

"My Lord?" Harry asked, turning his green eyes to Voldemort's.

Those eyes had been soft once. He could remember the way they had looked when he had been a child, standing before that fool Quirrell. It was completely different from the way they looked now. Age and war had hardened him. No longer was he the eleven year old boy with no concept of the world; he was a warrior who had seen his fair share of death. There was an emptiness that the Dark Lord was almost proud to say that he had put there. It would make a perfect Death Eater if he could be convinced to willingly take the Mark.

"Why do you serve me?"

He currently had the boy sorting through war plans that had been found at one of the Order's camps. They had had the ingenious idea to keep all of their important information contained in small camps that he wouldn't have bothered with. All of them were coded, and Harry was sorting through them, attempting to compile a list of ones that could be decoded the same way.

He frowned, absently running his fingers through his hair-a tantalizing habit Harry had when he was thinking. "If I may speak freely my Lord?" The Dark Lord nodded once, and Harry looked him in the eye, "You tortured me for a year, my Lord. You used every manor of pain-both muggle and wizard-in order to reduce me to nothing more than an empty husk. You raped me when you weren't isolating me, tore into me mind and body when you weren't raping me. You prevented my suicide…twice. And when I was finally empty, finally uncaring, you drug me from the depths of hell and brought me back to life. I serve you my Lord because I know, at any moment, you could decide that you are tired of me and kill me or send my back down to the basement. I serve you because it's the only choice I have."

The Dark Lord nodded thoughtfully. It summed it up, except… "And the views I possess?" he offered. "I am looking to end the pain and suffering of my kind, our kind, at the hands of muggles. For too long we have been in hiding, afraid to show ourselves. If our enemy was destroyed, shown that they are lesser than us, then we will be free."

"You know I don't believe that my Lord." Harry's eyes were empty, uncaring. That spark that they had held as he had knelt for the first time in his office was gone. It was almost disappointing. "Dumbledore reminded me every chance he got that assimilation is possible. He told me that it would be best if we could learn to live with our non-magical counterparts."

"Do you really believe that would work?" the Dark Lord asked, studying Harry intently. "Do you really think that _muggles_," he sneered the word, "Would accept or ignore us if they knew we had a power that they didn't?"

"What of muggle-borns?" he offered, "Their families are usually over-joyed to have magical blood in the family."

"Name one instance."

He paused, chewing on his lip. His voice softened slightly, "Hermione's, my mother's."

"Ah yes, the Granger girl. Are you sure they are as accepting as you say? Have you ever been around them and their daughter? Have you been inside their minds and seen what they really think of her?" when Harry didn't answer, the Dark Lord continued. "And your mother's family." He laughed, "Surely you aren't referring to those muggles that shoved you in a cupboard and left you there to rot.; the ones that beat you and starved you. Yes, they are so very accepting of the wizarding world."

The Dark Lord sighed, watching Harry flinch at the mention of his "family." They had really done some damage to the boy. In the brief moments he had been inside his head, he had seen just how deeply his abuse went. It was shocking that nothing had been done for him. He had thought for sure that Dumbledore would have known at least, and done something about it. He shook his head; of course that wasn't the case. The man had known about him for years before he had come with his letter, and even after that he had ignored his pleas to stay at Hogwarts.

They were so similar, it was almost frightening. The boy had been damaged so similarly, and abandoned by the man who promised that he would always be there for him. He had grown used to having Harry near him, having someone whose soul mirrored his own. The Dark Lord, much to his horror, had found himself missing the boy that now stared blankly at him after he had gone to conquer the smaller camps of the light. He had received the news of his success with both pride and unease. He wanted the boy back, so he had sent the order, and Harry had returned.

Harry still did not look convinced. "Come," he offered Harry his hand. If he was not going to accept his ideas outright, he would show him why they would never be able to live in peace with muggles.

**Harry's POV**

Harry set aside the papers he had been sorting, and cocked his head to the side. "My Lord?" he questioned.

The Dark Lord had been acting strange lately. He had yet to understand why he had been called back. He had been by the Dark Lord's side almost constantly since his return a day ago. If he wasn't training he was using his knowledge of the Order to help bring it down. This was the first time they had actually talked about Harry's loyalties.

It had never seemed an important thing. It was sort of an unspoken agreement, Harry obeyed without question, and his political views were never a concern. The Dark Lord had known, he was sure, that he disagreed with his views on muggles and muggle borns. But he had a point… the Dursley's had been…less than excepting of his heritage, and he really did have no idea how Hermione's family felt. She had rarely talked about them.

He took the Dark Lord's hand, and immediately felt the familiar sensation of apparition. He stumbled slightly, and would have fallen if it weren't for the Dark Lord's hand on his waist. They were standing outside of a coffee shop in a small London village. The leaves had already turned to the brightest shades of orange and gold, and littered the ground. The street was still, but the shop looked to be open, and warm against the chill outside. This place looked familiar, but he couldn't place it for the life of him.

Harry glanced up at the Dark Lord, and found him in his "true" form, his dark hair hanging in his eyes. He started to move away from the Dark Lord's grip, but his Lord linked their arms, pulling him closer. "Stay near me, and call me 'Tom.'" he instructed, pulling Harry towards the glow of the coffee shop.

The Dark Lord held the door open for Harry to enter, releasing the strong aroma of coffee beans and fresh bread.

"Tom!" the girl behind the counter squealed, bounding around the counter and flying into the Dark Lord's arms in a blur of movement. Harry went for his gun instinctively, stopping only when the Dark Lord gave him a hard look.

"Marisa, my dear," he crooned, hugging the girl back. "How have you been? How is your grandmother?"

Harry's jaw dropped when the Dark Lord smiled-actually smiled at the woman in his arms. "She is well! And yours Tom? How is the family? It's been so long since you've been here." She stepped back, and the Dark Lord shifted closer to Harry, lightly touching his arm.

"_Close your mouth and smile,"_ he hissed in his mind, before saying out loud in the same joyous tone, "Father is doing better, he is still very ill, but never fails to tell his stories of your grandmother and he when they were at the orphanage when he's up for it."

"That's wonderful Tom!" she squealed, turning her gaze to Harry. "And who is this," her grey eyes slid up and down him, smiling in appreciation as she took in his muscular form and long braid.

"This," the Dark Lord, smiled down at Harry, "Is my lover, Harry Potter." He took Harry's hand, twining their fingers together.

Disappointment flickered across her pale features for a moment before she smiled again, "Nice to meet you Harry. How long have you and Tom known each other?"

"_Fifteen years. We went to school together and only reconnected a year ago."_

"Fifteen years," Harry repeated smoothly, his lips curling into a smile, "We met at boarding school and reconnected about a year ago while I was vacationing in Italy."

"Oooo," she sighed, eyeing him with a smile, "You're one of Tom's school friends? Does that mean you know his family?"

Before Harry could answer a sharp voice cut through the air, "Marisa! Have you taken our guests orders yet?"

The girl looked ashamed, and blushed deeply, "No grandmother."

"I'll have my usual Marisa and so will Harry," the Dark Lord replied with a warm smile.

After a long look at the two of them, the girl bounded off to make whatever the Dark Lord's usual was. Harry felt a small tug on his hand as he was led to one of the small, comfortable couches across from an elderly woman.

"Mrs. Erril," the Dark Lord said, bowing slightly as he sat down, "Long time, no see."

"It always strikes me how much you look like your father when he was your age. It seems the Riddle men have strong genes." The woman looked to be in her seventies; her hair a steely gray, and her face sagging around her eyes. Her face was both hard and gentle at the same time; her thin lips twitching into a smile as Tom sat.

"Of course ma'am. My father sends his love," the Dark Lord pulled Harry down onto the couch beside him, draping his arm around his shoulders as he did.

It was strange; the Dark Lord was never like this. If he was touching Harry it was either for sex or punishment. There was never the gentle caress on the back of his neck. He had no idea what the others were talking about-Harry knew for a fact that Voldemort had killed his family and there was no way this woman was able know his father. There was so much he wanted to ask, but he knew better than to say anything. The Dark Lord would tell him when he was ready.

They chatted for several minutes, simple conversation of old friends. Harry tuned them out for the most part, his eyes roaming the coffee shop. It was done up in traditional browns and oranges. Small tables lined the walls, nestled in the shadows giving them an intimate feel. The center of the room was taken up by soft leather couches. That coupled with the soft lighting and intoxicating aroma of coffee gave the shop a warm, relaxing feel. They were the only ones in the shop save for a couple talking quietly in the corner.

"I knew your father when he was younger than you are now," her words caught his attention, and Harry turned his gaze towards the woman, peering at the Dark Lord from above her glasses, "He was a strange but brilliant boy." This had the feel of an old conversation.

"An apt description," the Dark Lord said smoothly, taking a sip from the steaming mug that was set in front of him. "He has told me of his days in the orphanage, and has spoken of you with much kindness."

"I've known you for nearly ten years now Tom, since you stumbled in here. You don't have to lie to me. I know your father resents all of us from the orphanage." She smiled bitterly.

"I wouldn't say he resents you. It's more of a…" he waved his hand through the air, as if unable to find the words.

She laughed, "Why haven't you found yourself a nice woman Tom?"

The Dark Lord laughed, lightly rubbing his thumb across Harry's shoulder, "Perhaps because I've found myself a nice man."

She turned her dull eyes to Harry as if seeing him for the first time, "Who are you?"

"Harry ma'am. An old friend of my L-" fingers tightened slightly on his shoulder, "Of Tom's."

"Ah, did you go to that school too? The one that Riddle Jr disappeared to every fall?"

"_Tell her yes."_

"Yes ma'am," Harry repeated. This wasn't possible; he was sitting with 'Riddle Jr' right now. The Dark Lord had had no children, and yet this woman claimed to know the entire Riddle line.

"_My Lord…?"_ he asked silently, studying the woman.

"_Just listen, pay attention."_ Was his only response- "If you'll excuse me Mrs. Erril, I must use the restroom." He stood, giving Harry's shoulder one long squeeze in warning before heading towards the back of the shop.

Doing well to hide his confusion, he turned to the woman and smiled. After a moment's silence and a sip of his coffee he finally asked, "So how long have you known V- Tom?"

"A little less than ten years dear." She reminded him of one of his aunt's friends, sweet and dignified with just an edge of hardness. "He came wandering in here and I knew immediately who he was. He's the spitting image of his father. We grew up together you know, in the orphanage just up the road-the father, not young Tom here."

"You knew his father too?" Harry inquired, leaning forward slightly, slowly registering what was going on. If he was correct in his math, the Dark Lord had come back nearly ten years ago. Had he been acting like his own son for this long?

"Yes, although I haven't seen him in…well it's been more than twenty-five years." She said with a frown. There was another moment of silence before she prattled off about the Riddles she had known in her years-showering the youngest with praise while steering away from anything more than a passing comment about the Dark Lord as a child.

Harry reached out with his mind, lightly touching her consciousness. She honestly believed that the Dark Lord was his own family. He could see him in years past looking nearly identical to the way he did now. He listened to her stories about "Tom" as she explained how he had begun a now global charity for the orphaned in honor of his father. It seemed the Dark Lord was spending quite a bit of time in the muggle world, more so than anyone knew. Before Harry could react the Dark Lord slid into the seat beside him, lightly draping his arm around his shoulders. "Sorry about that," he said with a light smile, "Where were we?"

"_What are you doing my Lord?"_ he asked silently, _"If you truly believe that muggles can't be lived with then why all of this?"_

"_Watch._" The Dark Lord smiled slightly lifting his now empty cup to his lips, "Is there any way I can get a refill Marisa, love." he purred, looking at the girl who was sitting to his left.

"Of course Tom," she started to rise.

"No, no. Let me." The Dark Lord drew his wand, ignoring Harry when he stiffened, and summoned the pot with a flick of his wrist.

"My Lord," Harry murmured under his breath, eyeing the stunned women cautiously.

The Dark Lord shook his head, his body morphing as they watched into the form of Lord Voldemort.

There was a scream, "Demon!" The elderly woman made the sign of the cross, her eyes widening as the Dark Lord turned his crimson gaze towards her.

There was a familiar flash of green light and the woman's scream was cut off mid breathe.

Marisa jumped to her feet, going for the phone, "Harry," the Dark Lord snapped.

Harry drew his wand, "_Avada Kedavra." _The phone slid from her hand with a clatter as her body landed across the counter. He turned instinctively towards the movement from the only other patrons-killing them without hesitation. A hand gripped his upper arm, followed by a familiar squeezing in his chest, and they were back in the Malfoy manor.

"My Lord," he gasped, turning towards him, "What the fuck was that about? Those women adored you, I don't understand why you felt the need to-" A hand gripped his throat, pressing him back against the wall, his feet barely touching the floor.

"Remember who you are talking to Potter," the Dark Lord hissed, pressing harder on his throat, his eyes glowed with anger at Harry's outburst. "That was the point. Those women have known me for years, and yet they panic at the slightest magic. What do you think the rest of the muggle population would do?" he released Harry, letting him collapse to the ground at his feet. "Think about it."

**Tom's POV**

The Dark Lord gazed sightlessly out the floor to ceiling windows of his private rooms.

_It had to happen._ He reminded himself, absently twirling his wand from one finger to the next. He had to kill them, just like he had to keep in contact with the muggle half of his heritage. It was the only way.

For nearly thirty years he had been bringing his plans to life. Thirty years of tireless planning and endless risks, and it was finally coming to a head. It all revolved around his muggle life. They were going to be the downfall of their society and they wouldn't know it until it was too late.

He had used his family name to procure the money he needed for his…projects. He had started out small, rebuilding his father's (he couldn't help the twinge of hatred at the thought of the man) company and gaining the Riddle estate. He started out small, investing in smaller companies helping them mature into huge enterprises. He had his hand in every major muggle company worldwide; using the money he gained from those successes to ease his way into the underground of the science community. It was something too many wizards ignored. Soon his teams would have reached their goal, and from there it was only a matter of infecting muggles.

He smiled bitterly. It was almost perfect. It was just a matter of crushing the bothersome Order. They were in his way of perfecting his world. The war was taking up far too much time. Getting them to surrender was ideal, but they refused to submit. It was only a matter of crushing them in one final swoop, but to do that he would have to kill the heads and for that he needed Harry. The boy was the only one who could get close enough, the only one who was truly capable of slipping past their wards and ending them. It was his hope that Harry would choose to join him after tonight, but he had surprised him as always. He had reacted the exact opposite of how he had wanted. The boy had a habit of doing that.

He was stubborn. Even broken and devoid of nearly all emotion, Harry still managed to surprise him. He was the second most powerful wizard that ever lived, and yet he was held back by his morals. Yes, he killed without hesitation when asked, but he refused to kill anyone who wasn't a part of this war without being ordered to do it. The Dark Lord had seen him around his men. The fifty original and the two hundred he had been given, they adored him. He commanded their respect without having to threaten their lives. They knew he would kill them if he had to, but torture was never his teaching method.

The Dark Lord sighed. If he could not bring the boy over to his side, he knew he had to kill him. It would be messy to clean up, but he could not have someone so close to him that was not willing to do anything to achieve his goal. There was a twinge in his chest. He didn't want to have to kill him; it would hurt more than he cared to admit. He had grown used to having him around and missed him when he had left. His Death Eaters were starting to talk, saying he was going soft on Potter. That he was allowed to speak in a way that no one else was-a boy who only a short time ago had been their greatest advisory.

Yes, he would kill him if he could not bring him over.

_**Thank you for reading Everyone! Let me know what you think. This story is about to pick up big time. The next chapter will be Harry making a huge decision that's going to affect the outcome of the story and maybe something else…idk, I'm still thinking about it. Tell me what you think!**_

_**~AR**_


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